The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season
by coffeehigh
Summary: During the first war, an order member is called to live a double life & she realizes just how much she has to sacrifice to be able to fight the good fight. Sirius & other romance.
1. Reminisces 1: The Art of Losing

**Complete Summary:** During the first war, an order member is called to live a double life & she realizes just how much she has to sacrifice to be able to fight the good fight. On one hand, she has to denounce everything she believes in. On the other, she tries to cope with the hostility & mistrust of her contact, Sirius Black, her only connection to the light.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Reminisces 1: The Art of Losing**

His memories were coming back to him, at the oddest moments, these things that he thought he had lost forever. He had spent his twelve years in Azkaban not thinking about them, since his mind at the time alternated between thoughts of his innocence and memories of his bitter childhood. Finally outside of the dementors' influence, they were returning to him in flashes that take him by surprise and leave him breathless with their vividness.

_James looking ludicrous bedecked with tinsel since Lily had insisted that they decorate their first Christmas tree as a married couple without magic. Remus sitting a corner of Godric Hollow and sneaking magical ornaments on the tree behind Lily's back. He being less discreet about it and charming the glass balls to sing and twinkle in time, in front of Lily. She had given him a good scolding, then ruined it by laughing. And Peter..._

Sirius stopped thinking.

That particular memory came the night he passed through Magnolia Crescent, triggered by the memory of seeing Harry for the first time. He had thought that once the good memories came back to him, he'd be all right. He didn't expect the good ones to be far worse than the bad ones. He was constantly blind sided by thoughts of what he had and lost...

He shook his head as if the physical act could eliminate from his head that particular memory and transfigured back into Padfoot, hoping to drown out all of these recollections with mindless action. He actually thought he was succeeding until he entered Privet Drive and saw a few laughing children, pulling pranks on each other.

_It was a few days past the full moon, and the Marauders decided to cheer Remus up. He had come up with an insanely risky (it was upon retrospect) but highly entertaining (it made them laugh, years afterwards) prank. He had suggested casting a duplication spell on Peeves, which would create a shallow, fake copy of the poltergeist, retaining only one aspect of its personality. But in Peeves case, since he only had one side to his personality, the spell churned-out an annoying-prankster-Peeves. Each copy made would divide and create another copy after five seconds. And each copy would disappear after three minutes of its first appearance._

_He and James had cast the spell first thing in the morning, and by the start of first period, there were over a hundred Peeves zooming down corridors throwing dungbombs or flying through blackboards into classrooms or even pulling up some of the older girl's robes. _

_Remus, being prefect then, tried- and failed miserably- to look stern when they explained to him that they did the prank as an investment into his happiness. _

The memory came swiftly, quite unexpectedly and had left him hunched over in a darkened yard of one of the matching houses of Privet Drive, catching his breath and gnashing his teeth.He wondered if this was one of the things- his apparent unconcern for a lot of other people when he was younger- that had made Remus think he was a mass murderer.

They had glibly apologized and forgiven each other, that night in the Shrieking Shack, but it was painful still, for both of them. To realize that the machinations of a small, untalented coward had been enough to tear their friendship apart was, at times, even more painful than having thought the other as the traitor.

He wondered what Remus was doing now. He hasn't talked to him in awhile. Not since that time in the Shrieking Shack, almost two years ago and the occasional vague letter he could owl to him.

After being released from Azkaban and rescued by Harry and Hermione, Sirius had left England for a while, partly to save his neck but also to lure the search party there. He was hoping that would clear England of Aurors looking for him so that when he returned to the country, he could keep a closer and unencumbered watch on Harry.

However, after the incident in the maze and the death of the Diggory boy, Dumbledore had instructed him to get the old crowd then lay low at Lupin's. He had decided to start that task by going to Arabella Figg's house first. Arabella, being a squib, was one of the people whom he could talk to without fear of her hexing him first.

Once he recovered from the memory, he headed straight to Arabella's. Apparently, Sirius needn't worry at all about being hexed, since Dumbledore sent Fawkes ahead of him with a note explaining his predicament.Arabella had welcomed him right in and had told him to be comfortable. He tried to look for a place to sit that wasn't covered with cat hair, then stopped. It wasn't as if he was in the cleanest state himself.

Arabella had asked him for a first hand account of what happened with Pettigrew. Sirius had become so accustomed to the telling, that he recited it mechanically.

"Oh, you poor thing." Arabella said, plying his hands with tea, cauldron cakes and a leather bound book. "Why don't you take a look at this, and remember the good times."

The book turned out to be an album. He stared at photograph after photograph of happy wizards and witches waving up at him. Most of them were dead. He wondered what Arabella was thinking when she handed him this.

He saw a photograph with most of the members of the order. He poked a few of the people in the front, asking them to move around a bit, until the people at the back of the photograph showed themselves.

Then he saw himself. And her. All long black hair and hazel eyes and shy smile. _Cassie._

Every sense was filled with her memory.

_The sound of her laughter.  
__The feel of her hand clasped in his.  
__The scent of her perfume.  
__The taste of her lips.  
__The weight of words that were never said._

"The old order picture." Arabella said, interrupting his thoughts. She looked at the photograph over his shoulder then sat opposite him. "Moody has been asking me for that one."

He ran a finger down her photographic cheek, returned the picture in its place and went back to business.

After informing Arabella of the revival of the Order, she told him that she would talk to Mundungus herself. Being a wizard, Mundungus would be able to find a way to keep in touch with Sirius for Arabella.

* * *

AN:

This is my first fanfic and I'm pretty nervous. _Whew_, finally, that's out of the way. Ihave plans for this to be a multi chappie fic.

This chapter is set between GoF and OotP. In GoF, Dumbledore said, _"Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher- the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."_ (GoF, chapter 36: The Parting of the Ways, p 713, Scholastic Edition.)

The photograph that Sirius finds inside Arabella's album is the same one that Moody shows Harry in OotP (OotP, chapter 9: The Woes of Mrs. Weasley, p 173-174, Scholastic Edition.)

The title for the chapter is a line from Elizabeth Bishop's poem, One Art.

Reviews are highly appreciated. (Oh you can't believe how much!) Thanks!


	2. Chapter One

**Complete Summary:** During the first war, an order member is called to live a double life & she realizes just how much she has to sacrifice to be able to fight the good fight. On one hand, she has to denounce everything she believes in. On the other, she tries to cope with the hostility & mistrust of her contact, Sirius Black, her only connection to the light.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter One**

The floor made impact with her body. Again. Most people would say that it's the other way around, but for Dorcas Meadowes, a different perspective was the only thing keeping her sane. Whereas sparing with one of the greatest duel champions in the wizarding world would usually be called suicide, she preferred to see it as chapter in personal development. Besides it's part of her job.

"Cassie, keep this up and you'll end up dead." Benjy Fenwick said in a cheerful voice, his hands dangling nimbly at his side. He hasn't even broken a sweat yet.

"Since you're sounding so hopeful, why don't you just do it and save me the trouble of enduring this torture." Dorcas muttered. She was rewarded by a hearty laugh.

"That's the spirit." Benjy said and offered her a hand. She ignored it and pushed herself up off the floor.

For the last month, she had spent two days of her work-week learning how to cast spells using a wand strapped to her forearm. Hexes and curses were simple enough, since most of their power come from the correct utterances. Charms were another matter, as these often require the correct swish, flick or jab. The levitation spell, for instance, requires dramatic hand maneuvers while a correctly executed banishing spell needs snappy wrist movements.

Benjy had been teaching her alternative movements to produce the same effects as these spells, and just when she thought she was getting the hang of things, she fails to cast something as simple as a summoning spell.

During their mock duel, Benjy had banished every single heavy object in the room towards her. Several heavy tomes flew in her direction. She had tried summoning a pillow to use as a shield. And failed miserably.

"The spell originally needs a strong flexion of the wrist and a slight turning of the forearm. What you need to do is bend your elbow a little bit more." He demonstrated the movement.

Dorcas imitated the movement and said, "_accio pillow_." The pillow gave an unenthusiastic jiggle but remained where it was.

"You're not bending your elbows enough." He stood behind her and guided her through the movements. Once he was satisfied, he had her repeat the spell. To Dorcas surprise, the pillow flew straight into her outstretched hand.

"Fantastic. Now let's practice the blocking charm." Benjy said enthusiastically.

Dorcas suppressed the urge to groan. It was going to be a long workday.

They continued up to the end of the day until it was time for Dorcas to report to her boss, Madame Althea Tutela.

In the Department of Mysteries lies the Incolumitas Division, a division so secret that its existence is known only to the people working in the division, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic. The head of this Division is a stern witch named Madame Althea Tutela.

Dorcas Meadowes was recruited straight out of Hogwarts to join the Division, nearly two years ago; since that time, her job involved gathering information on people and events that could pose a threat on Wizarding security.

It is quite similar to the job of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and the Auror Division. However, while the Magical Law Enforcers and the Aurors investigates and apprehends _known_ offenders and dark wizards, the Incolumitas Division deals with _possible_ security threats- people who would usually be above suspicion. The members of the Division are supposed to spot trouble even before one could call it that.

If the public were to know that such a Division existed, it would cause a furor over its ethics. The Division operates on the sole premise that everybody _could be_ guilty until proven innocent.

Because of the nature of the Division's purpose, recognition and professional advancement were certainly out of the question, yet the only thing Dorcas regretted in accepting the position was that secret divisions tended to set up camp in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, instead of the less stuffy and easier to access upper levels.

She navigated without magic a labyrinth like set of corridors before she reached the door that she wanted.

The entrance to Madame Tutela's office was an unmarked wooden door painted an unappealing shade of dark brown. She took out her wand and tapped the door in select places, then stood back. A soft hissing sound accompanied the release of smoke, and the door opened with a soft _woosh_.

The room inside was square and around the size of a closet, its walls were made of light gray stone that blended into more light gray stone. Dorcas entered and shut the door behind her. The unremarkable, featureless room had only one purpose. It was one of the two rooms in the entire Department of Mysteries where a witch or wizard could apparate to and disapparate from. And the only people who knew about the room were the members of Incolumitas Division.

Apparition wasn't allowed in certain areas of the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries was one of those areas. A number of studies on unusual and unexplainable kinds of magic were being conducted in the Department, and the magic involved in apparition usually skews these experiments.

However, a wizard cannot disapparate from this room to go anywhere. One can only go to the office of the head of the Incolumitas Division, the coordinates of which are known only by the Division members.

With a crack, Dorcas was gone from that room and in Tutela's office.

"Meadowes." Tutela greeted, looking quite comfortable in an office without any doors or windows. How she could survive that, Dorcas had no idea. At least the ceiling was charmed to look like one was under a canopy of branches. Today, the branches held leaves of gold and red, autumn in the middle of spring.

There were no chairs in Tutela's office, aside from the one she was sitting on, so Dorcas stood in front of the desk, keeping her hands inside the pocket of her robes.

Being a person who believed that social niceties and business don't mix, Althea Tutela went right to the point. "Your report on the Lestrange brothers was rather alarming."

There were number of wizards and witches that were known supporters of pureblood rights whose movements were monitored by the Division and the Lestrange brothers and Crabbe were under Dorcas' watch.

"They have been spending a considerable amount of their energies on something I cannot determine. They've been meeting up with a number of people on our list, spending more time than necessary if they were only planning the usual press statements or rallies or even their vandalism." Dorcas said.

"I agree, Meadowes. This is something outside of their usual rabble rousing. Particularly when taken together with Fulmingham's report on Nott, Rossier and Goyle and with Carson's report on the Black cousins and so on." Tutela leaned back in her chair and looked at Dorcas.

"You remember what we discussed a month ago?"

Dorcas felt like squirming under her gaze.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Tutela said and moved forward in her chair to hand Dorcas a scroll. Dorcas took the scroll and noted the faint greenish glow it emitted.

She opened the scroll and read its contents. When she was finished, the scroll snapped

back into its tight roll then burst into flames.

Dorcas gave a nod and left.

* * *

It was slightly past supper when Dorcas popped into Hogsmede.

After the meeting with Madame Tutela, she finished her other reports, navigated out of the twisting corridors of the Department of Mysteries, exited through a side door reserved for unspeakables and went to one of the Approved Unspeakable Disapparating Sites.

The alley behind the Three Broomsticks was the unofficial apparating venue and was used by most of the witches and wizards going to Hogsmede, which was why Dorcas decided to apparate by the Shrieking Shack.

It would be a longer walk to Hogwarts from that place, but trying to avoid being noticed was a part of her life and there weren't a lot of other locations as options. She could try one of the caves by the hills, but that would be impractical and too paranoid for her liking.

She cast a few appearance charms on herself, changing her long black hair into a curly, light brown and her hazel eyes to green. She added a few wrinkles around her eyes and conjured up a pair of glasses which she perched low on her nose. It would pass a cursory inspection but she would still be recognized by somebody who knew well enough. She turned up her collar to further hide her face from view and started for Hogwarts in a brisk pace.

It has only been two years since she left Hogwarts, but it seemed a lifetime ago. It wasn't as if her life in Hogwarts was a far stretch from the one she was living now. The need for secrecy and subtlety was just as necessary then. She had been in Slytherin. In fact, that was one of the reasons why she was chosen for this job.

The castle loomed on the horizon, slowly growing in size as she approached. The closer she got to Hogwarts, the more she got lost in her thoughts.

* * *

It was a week before the end of classes when she received the note from Dumbledore. It had said:

_Dear Ms. D. Meadowes,_

_If you would please report to my office immediately, there is a matter that concerns your presence. Thank you._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

When the seventh year Dorcas entered the Headmaster's office, she found that he wasn't alone. Sitting across from him and sipping tea was a tall and very thin woman with her hair wrapped up in a black velvet turban. She had a long face, an imposing beak like nose and eyes that were such a light shade of blue that one had the disconcerting impression of seeing only the witch's tiny pinpricks of pupils.

The woman turned around upon her entrance and did not say anything. Merely looked at her from head to toe. Dumbledore had excused himself from the room and exited to an adjoining room. Once the door that Dumbledore exited clicked shut, the woman moved around the headmaster's desk and settled herself behind it.

"Ms. Meadowes," the woman had begun without preamble, "I have taken the liberty of studying the application you sent in to the Auror Training Program. I have also conversed with the Headmaster and various professors regarding your aptitude for the position. I am quite impressed with what they had to say about you. I am, however, wondering why you decided to be an Auror. It seems quite a waste of your talents. During the last war, dark wizards abound. But during times of peace, Aurors do not have that much to do."

Dorcas, who had not been offered a chair, remained standing in front of the woman while answering. "Not all of Grindewald's supporters were caught, ma'am." She felt as though she was answering an oral exam.

It was like taking the N.E.W.T.s again. _Memory modification involves isolation and selection..._

"Yes, but they are far and few in between. And finding them is difficult. Why not be a Healer instead. Your N.E.W.T.s are certainly up to scratch." The woman replied.

"There is some degree of political unrest, ma'am. A lot of rallies are being held on issues of equality among pure and half blood wizards. Also, there are a lot of discussions going on about whether other sentient non-humans have the same rights as humans. A lot of people aren't agreeing with each other. And it's probably going to get worse before it's going to get any better. People _will be_ needed in the Ministry to see to injustices done."

Dorcas watched the woman for a reaction; she didn't get any.

Finally, the woman nodded and said, "I was told that your house is Slytherin. You do not sound like you are in favor of the supremacy of the pure blooded wizard. That is hardly a characteristic of a Slytherin."

Dorcas carefully worded her reply. "There are a lot of reasons to be sorted in Slytherin."

The woman's mouth twitched slightly but briefly. Then the reaction was gone, followed by a blank expression. "Yes, there is cunning, ambition, slyness and subtlety." Then giving her a sharp look, she continued. "Ms. Meadowes, if I offered you a different position in the Ministry, not as an Auror, but something else, something along the same lines, would you accept?"

Dorcas tried to get clues from woman's reaction but her face remained bland, almost unconcerned. She took a sip of her tea, observing Dorcas above the rim of her cup

"Could I find out more about this position?" Dorcas finally replied.

"You have been told all that you need to know."

She felt uncomfortable in accepting such a vague offer. If being in Slytherin taught her anything, it was to be cautious. However, Dumbledore would not have welcomed this woman here if he wasn't sure her offer was in Dorcas' best interest. And she was very curious.

She looked towards the door that Dumbledore disappeared to. Perhaps, she was hoping for some form of guidance from that direction. To her surprise, Dumbledore was back in the room. How long he had been standing there, watching quietly their discussion, she did not know. Unfortunately, his expression was just as inscrutable as the woman's was.

Then very faintly, (she thought she imagined it) Dumbledore gave a nod and a small smile.

Summoning her courage, Dorcas faced the woman. "I accept."

"Very well, you have to sign this."

A scroll that was emitting a faintly green light was thrust in her hands. The moment Dorcas touched it, the scroll sprang open. Inside, was a short message.

_I, Dorcas J. Meadowes, accept the position of Unspeakable in the Incolumitas Division of the Department of Mysteries. _

Dorcas signed her name on the blank at the bottom of the page. The scroll glowed brighter, then the writing vanished. In its place, a different message appeared.

_Welcome, Dorcas J. Meadowes, to the Incolumitas Division of the Department of Mysteries._

_You are now part of a proud tradition spanning hundreds of years, almost to the very beginning of Wizarding society. As the name implies, our Division is concerned with the safety of Wizarding society as a whole. Although we work under the Ministry, we are largely independent in our governance._

_Our existence is thought of as rumor and readily dismissed as such. Secrecy is our most powerful ally._

And just as suddenly, that message vanished as well. To Dorcas surprise, the paper burst into flames in her hands without burning her. There was nothing left of the scroll, not even ashes.

"Secrecy is our most powerful ally." The woman echoed what was written on the parchment. "As old as this organization is, it is hardly ever mentioned. A concentrated study of some of the older history books would reveal a footnote or a small reference to a secret division in the Ministry, but the Incolumitas Division is never named."

"That is because of the nature of our duties. There are no outlined list of them for the unspeakables of the Incolumitas Division. There are no official guidebooks stating the scope of the Division's tasks. But in a word, we are watchers. We observe and monitor people and events that could cause potential destruction of our society. And when we have enough information, we tip our hands into the appropriate departments of the ministry." The woman explained.

Once that was finished, the woman stood up and offered her hand to Dorcas.

"Dorcas Meadowes, I am very happy you accepted. I am Althea Tutela"

* * *

Dorcas tried to clear her head of the memories. She had reached the Hogwarts' gates, which were unlocked, and entered the school. She knew that as long as Dumbledore was headmaster, they never would be. He insisted on keeping the gates and the Main Door unlocked, especially during times of unrest, believing that it is during these times that Hogwarts would best serve as a refuge for the needy.

It may seem like an unwise decision. But everybody knew that more than locks that protected Hogwarts and that more than breaking through them would be needed to invade the place. And people who keep their doors unlocked usually have other means of finding out who entered and exited their homes.

She wondered if there would be a time when she'd find the gates barred. She shivered at the thought.

She navigated through the corridors of the school easily, choosing the ones that were hardly used by the students, taking the most discreet way to the Headmaster's office.

"Cockroach Clusters" she said to the gargoyle guarding the door, who muttered about the lateness of the hour and other indecipherable unpleasantness before shuffling aside.

"Dorcas," Dumbledore said and waited for a moment while she removed all of her appearance charms.

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry I came without prior notice."

"Nonsense, Dorcas. When one gives away their password, one expects visits like this. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." Dumbledore waved his wand. An overstuffed chintz armchair replaced the usual straight-back chairs reserved for students called in for infractions. With another wave of the wand, a tray of sandwiches and pumpkin juice were conjured up.

Dorcas hesitated for a moment then picked up a glass and took a sip. She didn't touch the sandwiches. The gravity of what was happening has stolen her appetite, but has left her throat dry.

"Professor, Madame Tutela talked to me this afternoon." Dorcas began, not really certain what to say. "She thinks, well, we both think that it's finally happening. The key players are moving around a lot, meeting with each other often, more often than before. And Voldemort, he has been laying low lately. He isn't appearing in any of the rallies. He isn't giving any statements. It's mostly Bellatrix Black who's talking, now."

Dumbledore gave a brief nod. For a moment, Dorcas thought that he looked tired. "I suspected as much, Dorcas, given what you have reported to me during the last month or so."

"Sir, she's asked me to do what we have been talking about before. Now is the time for it." Dorcas looked at him somberly. "I said yes."

"It is a hard thing, what she, and I for that matter, am asking you to do. Neither of us would think any less of you if you say no." Dumbledore said kindly.

"I've already said yes, professor. And my connection with Slytherin and these people was one of the reasons I recruited. What's the point of my being in the Division if I didn't do it." Dorcas bit her lip and gazed at her hands.

"But something is troubling you, child."

"I'm just... I don't know, sir... afraid." Then more wryly, she added. "I guess that's why I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor."

Fawkes, which had been perched on the backrest of Dumbledore's chair, flew towards Dorcas and settled on her shoulder. The bird hummed a simple tune, and she felt as if a weight lessened from her shoulders.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but the determination to continue despite it." Dumbledore said. "But if you are to act as spy, you will have to denounce your allegiance with me and this school. There will also be a parting of ways between you and your friends. This will have to be done in public, to make it more believable. It will give you some protection. This will also put your sister in some amount of danger. But we will take precautions to keep her outside of the wizarding world." Dumbledore fixed her with a piercing stare. "Are you ready? Are you prepared for this Dorcas."

Dorcas opened her mouth but felt the answer die on her lips. She nodded instead. _A parting of ways between you and your friends. In public._ _This will also put your sister in some amount of danger._ Starting tomorrow, she would have a new life. One that involves hexing muggle-borns when she passes them in Diagon Alley or vandalizing the homes of muggle lovers, like what Bellatrix Black does. Or, if their suspicions were correct, worse things than vandalism and rudeness, things that are frightening to contemplate on at this time.

**

* * *

****AN:**

One of my biggest reasons for hesitating to write this fic was that I didn't know how people would respond to an OC's (or minor character's) POV. From the start, I knew where I wanted to take this but I also knew that to make the story work, it would have to be partly told from the OC's POV, which I don't think is a pretty popular thing in fan fiction writing. Oh, well, in for a knut, in for a galleon.

The titled reminisces chapters are mostly interludes set between GoF and OotP. The numbered chapters follow the main story and are set during the first war. I have assumed that the Marauders were perhaps 19 or 20 at the time.

Based on OoTP, I've inferred (meaning, I've assumed much based on fairly little evidence from cannon) that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were initially seen as radicals with ideas that some of the Wizarding population actually agreed with. This was before they demonstrated up to what extent they were willing to go for such beliefs. "...They were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren't alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things..." (OoTP chapter 6: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, p112, Scholastic Edition)

**aztecgold882:** Thank so very much for being my first ever reviewer. If there is anything you want that is within my power to give, I'd offer it to you in a second. (Remus teaching DADA, Sirius alive and well, the Potions Master growling sexily- wait! These are what I want.) But as it stands, J.K. Rowling owns the One Ring and has all the power.


	3. Chapter Two

**Complete Summary:** During the first war, an order member is called to live a double life & she realizes just how much she has to sacrifice to be able to fight the good fight. On one hand, she has to denounce everything she believes in. On the other, she tries to cope with the hostility & mistrust of her contact, Sirius Black, her only connection to the light.**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
_"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Two**

Dorcas gazed up and down the corridor listening for footsteps, then knocked rapidly on the door of apartment forty-two. She heard a shuffling on the other side, a brief pause, followed by the sound of bolts being slid and locks being turned.

"Sis!" The woman who answered the door greeted her enthusiastically.

Dorcas stepped inside quickly. She enveloped her twin in a long embrace and stepped back to study her appearance. Her sister had the same black hair, but unlike Dorcas' long, fine, straight locks, Darcy kept hers close cropped and spiky, dyeing the tips red.

"I like the hair Darcy. Suits you." Dorcas said, giving her a big grin.

The Meadowes twins were fraternal, but back when they were younger and inseparable (and when Darcy sported the same hairstyle as Dorcas), one could almost overlook the different colored eyes and indeed say that they were twins.

That was until the Hogwarts letter came for Dorcas alone.

Suddenly, they started having completely different lifestyles as if they were two culturally unrelated countries and magical ability or the lack thereof was a chasm too deep and wide to cross.

"How are the wizards treating you?" Darcy asked, ushering her sister behind a counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. The said counter was more artwork than high table.

Dorcas loved her sister's apartment. Paintings and prints covered the walls, muggle books lay scattered in every corner, scarves, throws and patchworks draped every surface and mismatched furniture seemed to be the dominating theme. But everything fit, somehow. It was just so... Darcy. The room full of contradictions fit the woman who was not really magical, not really muggle.

She perched herself on one of Darcy's mismatched stools and tapped her fingers on the wooden table inlaid haphazardly with brightly colored tiles.

"Pretty much the same." Dorcas answered, trying to be nonchalant. She didn't want to start a serious conversation before Darcy sat down. Darcy raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. Dorcas endured her scrutiny by slipping on a bland expression and waited until her sister let it go.

"Intros like that call for strong coffee." Darcy finally announced and puttered around her kitchen in a swirl of colorful skirts.

Dorcas would have offered to prepare the coffee and would probably have done it faster with magic, but she knew her sister would be offended.

A moment later, Darcy carried two mugs, one bearing the name Oxford, the other having a lurid banana and an obscene caption. She placed the latter in front of Dorcas.

"So, what's so important Cassie that you couldn't send Byron over?"

Byron was her owl and a gift from Darcy for their sixteenth birthday.

"Wait, don't tell me." Darcy paused dramatically. "You're finally being shagged on a regular basis."

Dorcas gave her a haughty look. "That would be none of your business."

"But it would certainly be news." Darcy returned pertly.

Dorcas waited until Darcy stopped laughing, then broke the news.

"You remember, I've been telling you about Voldemort."

Darcy nodded. Dorcas then proceeded to explain about agreeing to act as a spy.

"We have to be cautious, Darcy. We'll set up wards around this place. It's dangerous

enough because of mum and dad. They can't find out about you."

Darcy and Dorcas' parents had active roles in the creation of the Muggle Protection Act. In the process, their parents had angered a number of the pure blood families. More so, since the Meadowes were just as pureblooded. The two of them had more than enough memories of being cornered in Diagon Alley and being threatened.

_Bloodtraitors' little spawns. Tell your parents to be careful, or you might end up orphans._

As Dorcas grew up, she learned to handle herself with words and a few threatening jabs of her own wand at the offending person. But Darcy hardly set foot in Diagon Alley after she found out she was a squib. Their mother was saddened but remained respectful of Darcy's decision to live a more muggle life.

Then a couple of years ago- during Dorcas' last year in Hogwarts, somebody came through with their threats. Mr. and Mrs. Meadowes were found dead in their bed, strangled by a Venus Tentacula plant transfigured to look like an ornamental ficus.

It happened on Christmas break. Darcy, who went to a muggle boarding school, got off earlier than Dorcas. She arrived to an eerily quiet house and was surprised to find her parents covered in vines, their eyes glassy, their lips a ghastly shade of blue. It was sheer luck that Dorcas had sent Byron to Darcy with a note. Using Byron, Darcy was able to send Dorcas a message. Within minutes, Dorcas and Dumbledore were beside a hysterical Darcy.

The Ministry ruled it an accident, although it was whispered in certain circles that some of the wizarding families got fed up with the Meadowes' lobbying.

With the increasing popularity of Voldemort's propaganda on the superiority of pure magical blood and the rule of the strong, it couldn't in any way help that Darcy was a Meadowes and a squib.

"I can't see you anymore. I can't send Byron, Darcy. He could be captured. It could be dangerous…." Dorcas trailed off.

There was no need to add _for you._

"So we get another war." Darcy said soberly.

"It could be."

"Cassie, I'm just glad mum and dad aren't here to see this."

"Me too, Dars."

The twin sisters were silent for a moment, the air thick with things left unsaid. Darcy was biting her lip, her eyes glittering. Dorcas looked away but her lashes felt heavy with moisture as well.

"It's for the best Dars."

"I know. Doesn't make it easier, but I know."

Moving by instinct, the sisters fell into an embrace and remained in that position for some time.

Finally, trying to keep their parting light and happy, Darcy spoke up. "Well that was interesting."

"Anything is more interesting than my love life." Dorcas said wryly, backing her sister's effort to insert levity in the situation.

Darcy laughed. "You've got to admit, you getting luv on a regular basis deserves a party and a Prophet announcement."

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. "I don't see a man _around here_."

"You were lucky. _Any other day_, and there would have been a lot of loving."

Dorcas snorted. "_Lucky me._ What are the chances of that."

Darcy's tinkling laugh filled the small space of her apartment, prompting Dorcas' own. "Come on. Why don't you do those protection spells you've been bragging about."

Dorcas returned to her own flat past midnight, after setting up all the wards and protective spells around Darcy's apartment. She realized that she hasn't had supper yet, but was too tired to be bothered to prepare anything. She trudged to her bedroom instead, fell into troubled sleep and dreamed of glassy eyes, outstretched hands and crawling vines.

* * *

AN:  
Sorry for the long wait. has been down for some time and I couldn't upload. In the end, it was a good thing, since I was able to check this chapter and do some editing instead of simply subjecting you guys to raw material. 

This is a little invented background on the character, to round her out a bit.

**aztecgold882:** Again, thank you so much, not only for reviewing but for trying again and again to do so. As an aspiring writer, as much as I say I write for myself, sometimes I tend to think, without readers, what's the point. So for the long review, no need to apologize; I enjoyed it since it is as much a balm as an encouragement.

As for your question about the name, I had a line in chapter one explaining it, then I removed it because I wanted the reason to come up a little more subtly. But the use of Cassie isn't as mysterious as you think it is, and I fear you might be disappointed when you find out the truth.

**Reading addict:** Thank you. What you wrote made me smile. Any reason to read something is always a good reason to me.


	4. Chapter Three

****

The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
_"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Three**

Potions was hardly her best subject. She made herself proficient in it and took it up to N.E.W.T.s level because it was a requirement for Auror training. However, ever since she turned her back to that avenue, her uses of it had been limited to healing potions and sleeping draughts. The latter had become a common thing to brew. Sleep, it seemed, was a rare commodity in war.

That night was no exception, as the memory of lunch with Marlene McKinnon played relentlessly in her head. She had instigated a very public argument and had broken off ties with one of her oldest and truest friends.

_"Cassie." Marlene kissed her cheek and plopped down into a chair. People__have been watching the tall witch with sparkling blue eyes and bouncing honey curls since her entrance but Marlene remained oblivious to the stares she was getting. "Jerome's sorry he couldn't come, but couldn't really take a cab to Hogsmeade, right, and I had to take Junior to his grandmummy so I didn't have the time to arrange a portkey from the Ministry." Marlene had explained in her usual sunny way._

_"Marlene." Dorcas returned icily. "Don't bother getting comfortable, we won't take long."_

_Marlene gave her a confused look and reached over to squeeze her arm. Dorcas quickly pulled it out of her reach. _

_"Why, do you want to transfer? I mean, sure, it's a crush but-" Her brow furrowed. "Cassie are you okay?"_

_"I'm a little troubled Marlene, with how you've become so comfortable with all of their muggle nonsense."_

_"I have to, don't I? It's amazing really, how they've survived without magic. They can be quite ingenious. Makes me regret not taking Muggle Studies." Marlene explained, still friendly._

_Dorcas gripped the edge of the table, as if physically stealing herself against the coming emotional storm. "Marlene, you're a pureblood. Why are you dirtying yourself with this filth?"_

_Marlene looked at her as if she's never seen her before. "Is this a bad joke, Cass? You never believed the pureblood crap."_

_"I was naive and mislead by my foolish parents." Dorcas kept her face flat. "I know better now."_

_"Foolish, Dorcas?" Marlene snapped. "Your parents were bloody brilliant. Wonderfully compassionate people who made Wizarding Laws decent and fair. How dare you disrespect them like that." _

_They were getting an audience, which was good, because people would now talk about how the Meadowes child supported the pureblood cause and how she distanced herself from anybody and anything that didn't support that ideal._

_"They sired me," said Dorcas, keeping her voice controlled. "But they're dead, aren't they? I'm old enough to believe what I want."_

_Marlene crossed her arms and very deliberately held on to her wand. She didn't outright point it at Dorcas, but it sent the message across. "So what's the point of this?"_

_"You are a pureblood. The McKinnons are one of the oldest wizarding clans in England. Have some Wizarding pride. If you could let go of your muggle ties-"_

_"-Let go?" Marlene was outraged. "That is my family. My life. My husband and my son you are talking about!" She punctuated the last sentence by slapping her palm on the table._

_Glasses jumped. The room fell silent._

_And Marlene stormed away._

Part of the pain was because it was on awful terms and nothing could alleviate that, regardless of how many times she repeated to herself that it was for the cause. At least with Darcy, their good byes had been real and not fraught with deception.

A bigger part of the pain was due to the fact that it was a friendship that they had tried so hard, despite all of the prejudices of the Hogwarts' houses, to maintain.

She had lived a pretty isolated life in Hogwarts since Slytherin was hardly a house to cultivate friendships in. She had two close friends Marlene McKinnon and Caradoc Dearborn, but both of them were in different houses and since the political climate at Hogwarts was reflective of the outside world, she didn't have the luxury of keeping an open friendship with them. They didn't walk together to class or chat to each other across their houses' tables in the Great Hall.

They maintained the friendship by meeting after class hours in a secluded table in the library. That being the only time they saw each other, they tended to stay there till closing. Needless to say, Madam Pince wasn't too happy with their chatting. She had tried everything short of banning them from the library to keep them quiet, but when Dorcas and her friends returned night after night, she simply gave up and ignored them as long as they didn't disturb any of the other students.

Now, the severing of ties was done. Bridges have been burned. Marlene would undoubtedly talk to Caradoc about what happened, which was a blessing. She didn't think she could deal with another good bye.

* * *

Dorcas stretched languidly in her seat and looked at the clock hanging on top of the doorway. Two past twelve. _Finally._ She arranged the scrolls on her desk and slipped the more important ones into a drawer which she magically sealed. 

She has been working as a secretary for the Keeper of Prophecies in the Prophetic Records Section as part of her cover. It gave her an excuse to stay in the Department of Mysteries and disappear once in a while to the Incolumitas Division offices. At the same time, to any of the outsiders, it lent the illusion that she was simply some rank and file Ministry employee.

Prior to agreeing to work as a spy, her working schedule involved dueling practice with Benjy twice a week, doing surveillance work majority of the time and filling in the gaps by doing unbelievably copious amounts of paperwork. The running joke in the Division was that the top-secret job may seem glamorous because nobody knew about the amount of paperwork. Dorcas had once thought that it would be the paper trail, if anything, that would tip the public to the Division's identity.

Given her new duties in the Division, her time was still as hectic, but it was spent doing duller work. Whereas before, this cover- working as a secretary- was only on paper, now, she needed to keep the appearance of an eight to five employee. All the other work for the Incolumitas Division such as practice with Benjy and finishing her reports was done after hours. Free time was spent actively seeking old Slytherin acquaintances and hoping for a chance to get into what the Division had dubbed the inner circle of Voldemort's supporters.

"Gus, I'm off for the day. But I'll come an hour early tomorrow, okay." She had requested for half the day off a couple of days ago, but given Gus' tendency to live inside his books for weeks at a time, she wasn't sure he'd remember.

Gustav Rheinoff, the Keeper of Prophecies and her "boss," didn't even look up from the book that he was studying. The only indication that he heard Dorcas was a grunt and the small shooing motion he made with his hands.

There was going to be a rally in Alley Square, off Diagon Alley, at three, to support the pureblood cause and she was going to try to ingratiate herself among the ranks of Voldemort's supporters.

The rally at three was going to be a major event. It's been rumored that a number of the old Wizarding families will be present. It was _the event_ to see and be seen. And a good way to get into the fold.

Of the players that the Incolumitas Division was following, she had already chosen Rabastan Lestrange as her ticket into Voldemort's inner circle. The Lestrange brothers had been under her watch, so she was already aware of their comings and goings. It could have been any of the two, but Rodolphus was practically engaged to Bellatrix Black, and that was one witch Dorcas wasn't inclined to do battle with over anything.

She apparated at Diagon Alley then made her way to Knockturn Alley. Still far from three, it was already a bustle of activity. Hags and warlocks moved here and there, talking about reforms, and more frighteningly about Muggle Eating bills. Dorcas overheard a group saying that the Ministry gave special permission to use blood spells during the rally, and that, if anything, was a good reason to go.

But what caught her attention was a number of wizards and witches, all of them with their hoods pulled low over their faces, moving from store to store. Voldemort's supporters were known to keep their identities a secret, thus when preparing for public gatherings, Dorcas had seen them before go around in robes with deep hoods. Even during the public events, they opted to wear generic black robes and white masks.

Dorcas stood to one side of the street, under the awning of a store and in the shadows. She studied the postures and movements of these wizards and witches, trying to identify as many as possible.

A tall wizard in dark blue, silk robes strode purposefully, swinging an expensive cane topped with a silver snake. _Lucius Malfoy. The hood doesn't do you any good. You should have left the cane at home._

A group of three hooded figures rounded the far corner. Based on their hand movements, they were talking animatedly. The two flanking figures were male. The one in the center had the curvaceous figure of a female and it seemed as if she were in command.

_Bellatrix Black, and the brothers Lestrange._

Bella's gait was unmistakable. Bellatrix was in her last year at Hogwarts when Dorcas entered and she had spent her entire first year blending in the shadows whenever she heard that walk.

They stopped by a group of harpies and Bella stepped forward and gave what must have been a convincing speech. The harpies were nodding emphatically.

A tall, thin figure with a slight hunch and wearing black robes, moved swiftly through the alley. Dorcas squinted, trying to place him. He wasn't on the Division's list of targets but there was something familiar about him. Something that told her she's seen him before.

There was another figure, tall, broad shouldered and wearing remarkably expensive robes, walking towards the store she was standing in front of. Since she didn't know if this was some Auror or one of the Division's targets, she tried to move from under the awning without looking conspicuous but it was too late.

He lifted his head and gazed straight at her face. She ducked her head to disguise some of her features, hoping that it made her look demure and not paranoid. But she knew it was too late. Because he stood against the light and because of his hood, she couldn't see his face, but the tiny surprised jump that he gave told her that he recognized her.

_Probably a Slytherin_, she thought and followed him inside the store. There was nothing to be done about being recognized so she might as well try to figure out who recognized her.

The store, which claimed to be an antique shop, sold mostly knick-knacks, a number of which Dorcas was pretty sure came from the last five years. But once in a while, amidst the "certified" sneakoscope of Merlin, the "authentic" voodoo _gris gris_ (inside psychedelic colored cloths festooned with smiley faces), and a rusty sword claiming to be Excalibur, she'd spot something truly old and frightening. On a shelf was a goblet with runes indicating that it is to be used for blood spells. Hanging on one of the walls was a black dish so shiny she suspected it was used as a scrying pool. There were bottles with labels identifying their contents as elf fingers, pixie sex organs, mooncalf eyes and an unlabeled one with something that looked suspiciously like human tongues suspended in blood.

The hooded figure she was following was at the other end of the shop, by the counter and was having an argument with the proprietor. He had removed his hood to reveal a shock of thick black hair.

Dorcas walked around a shelf to get a clearer view.

Regulus Black.

No wonder he recognized her. They were in the same year and in the same house in Hogwarts.

The proprietor of the shop, the person he was arguing with, turned out to be Sirius Black.

"Father wants you home." The voice she recognized as Regulus' said.

"Father is hardly the person I'll call _in charge_ of the Black household." A similar but slightly deeper voice- _Sirius'_ she thought- replied. "Mother won't be happy if I showed up."

"If you would just stop this nonsense of mudblood loving. _Working,_ for crying out loud Sirius. Mother said that as Blacks, we shouldn't taint our hands with these things."

She heard Sirius give a bark of mirthless laughter. "You spoiled little..."

"Don't tell me you _enjoy_ this."

"Of course I do." The answer was upbeat, but even Dorcas recognized the lie in his voice. "Besides Reg, I have my own hours. I come and go whenever I please. And it's never boring." Sirius continued in a wry tone, "You never can tell when arrogant little berks pass by."

Regulus had his hands fisted by his side, his face a brilliant shade of red. Sirius was leaning against the counter behind him, posture relaxed, but Dorcas noticed that he kept his right hand dangling near the pocket of his robes.

She wasn't able to watch what happened next as she sensed somebody pass behind her. She quickly drew out her wand and pointed it straight into the surprised face of a squat wizard, with stringy blond hair and rheumy eyes.

He gave a loud squeak.

_The Pettigrew boy. One of Sirius Black's friends._

Instantly, two wands pointed in her direction.

_James Potter and Remus Lupin. Of course._

She raised her right hand, the one not holding the wand and slowly lowered her wand arm. She wanted to apologize to Peter Pettigrew but it wasn't in accordance with her cover.

"Stop scaring away my customers." Sirius' lazy drawl drifted towards them from the counter. Regulus was still by the counter watching the commotion, a wand in his hand, but it was forgotten and dangling idly by his side.

"So how can I help you Miss-?" Sirius asked amiably but there was a slight tightness to it, a trace of his previous argument with Regulus.

James beat her to it. "Meadowes, right? You're the daughter of Damian and Daria Meadowes. You work for the Ministry."

So some people have been keeping tabs on her family. She was a little relieved that it was Potter doing it and not any of the pureblood enthusiasts but she was a private person by nature and it irked her none the less. But what frightened her the most was that she didn't have a clue how much other people know about the Meadowes, about Darcy in particular.

But Potter could have gotten the information from his father, who at one time worked for the Wizengamot, the wizarding court, and would have encountered her parents during one of their lobbying sessions.

Dorcas was acutely aware of Regulus eyeing her suspiciously. If the daughter of two of the most muggle loving purebloods in the history of Wizardom was friendly with this lot- and Regulus saw it- her chance would be blown even before she started. So she opted instead to raise an eyebrow.

"I wish to purchase something. That's what you do in a store, right?" She said sarcastically. She picked up the first thing she laid her hands on.

"Interesting choice." James said darkly. He was clearly taken aback. "I didn't know Ministry employees were allowed to purchase dark artifacts."

Dorcas looked down and saw that she had picked up a small but very sharp silver dagger with snakes carved along its handle. The snakes slithered and hissed at her every so often. One of them sunk its tiny silver fangs into the flesh of her palm, leaving two tiny pinpricks of red. She almost dropped it. Both ends of the knife looked menacing.

She gave James a cold stare. "Sadly enough, not everyone in the Ministry demonstrates true wizarding feeling. Or even outside of the Ministry. Not even the purebloods." She gave Sirius a pointed stare.

Sirius eyebrows furrowed. It looked like he was choking on a reply. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus put a hand on Sirius forearm.

"It's a very dangerous artifact." Sirius warned through clenched teeth. "A _sangsurin_"

"I know _what_ it is and how to use it." She took the dagger, pricked her index finger with the point and squeezed a drop of blood into each of the serpents' mouths. The eyes of the serpents glowed red, then lay still against the handle.

She gave Sirius what she hoped was a haughty sneer and paid for her purchase.

As she was leaving, she saw that Peter looked scared, Sirius looked outraged, James looked confused, Remus looked thoughtful.

And Regulus looked intrigued.

* * *

It was only half an hour before the rally, and already Alley Square, the open ground in front of Gringotts was filled to the capacity. There were no laws against such public gatherings, but the Ministry had wizards and witches from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad stationed around the square. There were also Aurors and Unspeakables from inside and outside the Incolumitas Division. 

Dorcas felt a prickly feeling on her skin when she reached Alley Square and knew that she entered the anti-disapparition barriers setup by the Ministry. They were a precaution against riots, ensuring that whoever started them would be trapped within the area. It wasn't particularly safe for the injured and tended to further increase injuries since it made it more difficult for healers to reach them and for those who weren't injured to leave the area to prevent further injury, but it made it easier for the Magical Law Enforcers to catch the culprits.

She shook her head._ Fudge's logic._

Dorcas looked around her, trying to decide the best way to reach the front of the gathering, closer to the known Voldemort supporters. She wasn't afraid of the MLES but it was wise to be wary of the aurors. If anything suspicious happened, and she got caught by an auror, the Department of Mysteries will disavow any claims she will make about being sub rosa.

Since the Incolumitas Division is top secret and by all accounts, does not exist, she is, as of public record, a secretary for the Keeper of Prophesies. All of the other members of the Incolumitas Division were treated the same way. Their employment record lists them as researchers, secretaries, clerks and having other such mundane jobs in the Department of Mysteries.

Gazing around the crowd, she spotted Frank Longbottom and Kingsley Shaklebolt by the right side of the stage positioned at the bottom of the Gringotts stairs. She let herself be carried by the movement of the crowd forward, but consciously avoided that side of the stage.

Midway through the crowd, she spotted Benjy Fenwick having a nice little chat with a couple of witches. The red haired one she recognized as Lily Evans, who was Head Girl the year before Dorcas left school. The shorter, blond witch she couldn't name but was sure was a Gryffindor. She knew Lily was an Auror-in-Training, which meant the other one was, as well.

Benjy spotted her and gave her a sly wink. She looked around; when she saw that nobody was looking at her, she gave Benjy a small wave and moved on.

She was only a few meters away from the stage when she felt somebody behind her shoving people.

"Watch it!"

"Ouch, my toes..."

"Hey!" The person next to her shouted.

"Sorry." Someone from the crowd said gruffly.

The crowd started parting, moving this way and that, trying to ferret out who was rudely pushing people about. The person, who caused the commotion, brushed by her and slipped a piece of parchment into her hands. Cautiously, she palmed the note. Dorcas also took advantage of the situation. In a few jostles, she found herself directly in front of the stage.

Raising her hand as a shield against intruding eyes, she opened the note.

_Red twins- 41-43. Paranoid- 39-40. Others taken. Use 38. Undid the charms. -J. _

Once she finished reading, the note burst into flames small enough to keep cupped in her hand until it went out.

The note was from Jillian Carson, another one of the Unspeakables that Dorcas worked with in the Division. The numbers represented the streets running perpendicular to Diagon Alley. The Prewett brothers will be guarding forty first to forty third and Moody watching thirty ninth and fortieth street. That left thirty-eighth street as the only escape route.

She sorted through her mental map of Diagon Alley, trying to recall where thirty-eighth led to, then realized it was a narrow, dead-end street. The Aurors wouldn't have seen the need to guard it, but they would have placed an anti-disapparition barrier around it. The Aurors were magically powerful so whatever spell Jillian cast to disable the barrier, it would most likely be temporary. Which means if anything happens, she would have to leave the place fast.

88888

_"Here we are, during the modern times, and we are slowly losing our sense of self. Just like water trickling through our fingers, that is how we are treating our traditions. Have we forgotten to look back on where we came from? Have we forgotten what it means to be magical?_

_"We are the ones who used to rule this isle. From the moment we moved out of Greece and Rome and Egypt and landed in this noble island, we have done nothing but transform it into the glorious place that it is. We are the ones who conquered the merciless rocks of this country and made it grow. We are the ones who coaxed the land to bear fruit._

_"If it were not for us, the muggles would have died out. We are the ones who have given them the cures for their illnesses and have aided them to prosper in this new frontier._

_"And what do they do to us. At first they became greedy and demand more than what they deserve. Then they became lazy, only seeking magical solutions for problems that could be solved with hard work and without magic. When we started to refuse for their own good, they burned us at stakes. They cursed our name._

_"Then because of blood traitors and marriages with them and they started producing half bloods, they think that they do not need us anymore. They think that simply because the magic has been included in their own blood lines, that they can get rid of us. And they do this because they want the magic for their own selfish needs._

_"They do not see that such magic is tainted. Such magic is dirty and impure because it is wanted for self-serving reasons. They want it because it makes their life easier. There is no pride in their using of magic._

_"They do not understand the value of blood. Of tradition."_

The figure stood regally in the center of the stage, her voice carrying out due to the effects of the Sonorous. Her speech was dramatic, her demeanor intriguing. Despite the shapeless black robes and the white mask that concealed her identity, she certainly drew the eyes of everybody in the crowd. The audience was cheering wildly and clapping enthusiastically.

This was the fourth of the speeches delivered. Each speech was given by a masked supporter of Voldemort, and their identities were kept secret. But Dorcas could place this speaker as Bellatrix Black, only because of the information she has due to her job.

_"Despite all of this, we continue to protect them. The fools in our history and in the Ministry continue to make laws and rules that work more for their welfare than for our own. Don't you see the injustice in all of this?_

_"Well I for one say that it is enough. It is time to stand for ourselves. And I call all of you to join me to stand behind the banner of the magical race!"_

The applause was deafening. Dorcas could feel the thrum of energy permeating the crowd, and put herself on ready. With the audience worked out like this, a single misstep could lead to a riot.

Bellatrix looked out at her enraptured audience and raised her wand arm towards the crowd.

_"So today is the day that we stand up for ourselves! Immunda Sang!"_

A faint light erupted from Bellatrix's wand accompanied by a loud _crack_ and the entire assembly was covered in a blanket of green light.

As the light touched her skin, Dorcas felt a strange tingling sensation start at her nape and slowly spread through her whole body.

The spell must have been an ancient one, for it wasn't in the Standard Book of Spells years 1-7- or any of the other spell books she studied in and out of Hogwarts- and Dorcas doubted that Miranda Goshawk would recommend its use.

Then all hell broke loose.

All around her, witches and wizards started dropping on the ground. Others started retching violently. The ones who weren't affected by the strange spell pushed each other around, trying to get out off the square.

Dorcas went for the stage, thinking that higher ground would keep her clear from any residual effects of the spell. Then seeing Longbottom and Shaklebolt moving towards the stage, themselves and restraining the people there, she opted to go in the opposite direction. Towards thirty-eighth street.

The din of the crowd was getting louder, as charms, curses and hexes were thrown around. The sound of footwear against the cobblestones and the sobs for help, punctuated by sharp words of Ministry workers barking orders added to the confusion.

People were pushing around her, trying to get out of the square. She picked up the hem of her robes with one hand to prevent it from being stepped on and she used her other hand to clear her way through the crowed.

She heard a group of warlocks shouting _cruento_ again and again, and the witches and wizards who weren't on the ground or retching got drenched in a thick, red substance that Dorcas suspected was blood.

Around her, she discretely cast shielding charms on the wizards and witches who fainted or who looked sick to keep them from being trampled on but she didn't stop to attend to them. She couldn't be seen by Voldemort's cohorts as helping these people. And she needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. She knew how the Ministry worked. Anybody caught in the area, will be detained and questioned.

She moved along as quickly as she could, given the multitude of people around her. Once she got into a slightly cleared area, she started running, only to crash into someone.

"Dammit!" The voice sounded very loud, considering the noise.

Dorcas picked herself up, ignoring the pain on the hip that she landed on.

She found herself staring at Regulus Black. Malfoy, Narcissa Black, Crabbe and Goyle were with him and they were running in the opposite direction.

Recognizing her opportunity to ingratiate herself with known pureblood cause supporters, she said, "not that way," and tilted her head towards the direction she was headed.

Regulus looked at her skeptically, trying to decide if he should follow. Malfoy's expression was a little bit more menacing.

"Why should I follow a Meadowes?" Lucius said scathingly.

"Up to you." Dorcas returned. "I work for the Ministry. I know it's weak points."

"You could be leading us into a trap." Narcissa said haughtily.

Dorcas shrugged, hoping that she looked nonchalant and not frightened. She was breathing hard, her heart was beating unnaturally fast.

"The anti-appartition barriers aren't going down anytime soon and the place is teeming with Aurors. As I see it, you have two options. You could either go back in that direction and be caught by those Aurors. Or you could go with me. If I'm lying, you'll be caught by Aurors anyway. If I'm not..." Dorcas left the sentence hanging, then turned away from them and started for thirty-eighth.

Malfoy's regal face lined for a moment as he deliberated this. Narcissa looked irritated by the brashness of her response. Regulus looked as if he wanted to follow her but he waited for what Malfoy would do.

Then Malfoy nodded towards the group, and they all followed Dorcas.

When they reached thirty-eighth street, Malfoy looked around.

"It looks safe." He said. He gave Dorcas a nod, which she supposed was as close as he'd get to acknowledging that she was correct. She bit back an _I told you so_.

Then he motioned to Narcissa. "Are you coming?"

The couple disapparated.

Regulus looked at her curiously. "You've changed since Hogwarts."

Then he gave instructions to Crabbe and Goyle to apparate to a wizarding pub some distance away from Diagon Alley.

When they were gone, he faced Dorcas. "There's something I think you'll be interested in. I'll contact you."

Then he was gone.

Dorcas peered around the corner to take stock of what was happening in Alley Square before disapparating herself.

* * *

AN: 

The blond auror Benjy Fenwick is talking to is Alice Longbottom, Neville's ma.  
Fudge was head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad during the first war- PoA.  
I plan to post the meanings of the spell names and other derivatives at the end of the epilogue, unless you guys want to see them.

I'm going to have to apologize and warn you guys ahead of time, that the next few chapters might have longer intervals before getting posted since I'm going back to uni now. sigh But I'll try to update at least once every two wks. As far as cultural differences go, I come from a country where school (not summer break) starts in June. But please, continue to R&R.

**aztecgold882:** lol! I loved your review, but then I always do. Thanks again. The answer to your question will come in ch. 6. I'm sorry I won't be able to update as often, but I hope the long ch., makes up for it.

**reading addict:** Thank you for that compliment. veg- I thought I got away with that one. ;) You're right, disbelievingly isn't a word, but I'm hoping that if people use it often enough it'll get included in Webster's. ;) I just couldn't come up with a word that quite captures the meaning that that particular non-word conveys.


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

**Moody to Harry in OotP:  
**_**"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally...**_

**Chapter Four **

"A Black, through and through!" Sirius spat. Considering his sentiments about his family, it was the worst thing he could think of saying about cousin Bella.

"She_ is something_." Peter muttered distractedly.

The anti-apparition barriers were disabled after the MLES and the Aurors had detained anybody wearing the black robes and the white mask. Then Moody had signaled that they could take Lily and leave Alley Square.

They had apparated back at the Potters' residence inGodric's Hollow after the riot. While Sirius, James and Peter weren't affected by the spell, Lily had fainted. Then after James had revived her, she had gone down in a fit of retching.

Remus had been affected as well, going pale and woozy but still able to move about. In typical Remus fashion, he refused any help that Sirius offered.

James gently laid Lily on the couch. She had stopped retching, but still looked pale. His hands were shaking as he pushed her hair off her forehead.

Remus had already collected some herbs, built up a fire and set a cauldron in it.

"Sirius, if I could take you away from the highly entertaining but completely useless pastime of family bashing, perhaps you could help me with this." Remus' tone was light, but Sirius could see he was shaken by the experience.

Sirius looked chastised for a moment and proceeded to provide assistance with the potion.

"Remus, why don't you-" he motioned to one of the chairs in the living room.

"I'm fine, Sirius." Remus said. His tone of voice left no room for argument.

Sirius directed his attention to the ingredients laid out in front of the fire and concluded that Remus planned to make a Calming Draught, the panacea of home remedies drank when there is no known cure to an ailment. He ran a critical eye over the ingredients, noticed something missing, then shouted over his shoulder.

"Oi Peter, could you find some lavender, since Remus wants to put Lily in a coma."

"Please?" Peter shouted sarcastically. Sirius ignored the bait.

Seeing that Sirius was much more competent to complete the task, Remus raised his hands in mock surrender then sat in one of the wing chairs.

"Don't sound so hopeful, Sirius Black." Lily said. She was weak but there was humor in her voice.

At Sirius' comment, James glanced through all the ingredients, making sure the potion brewing was going smoothly.

Peter returned with the lavender and watched over Sirius' head while he brewed the Calming Draught. Despite his nonchalant behavior, the line of Sirius' shoulders betrayed the tension they were all feeling over what happened.

When the potion was finished, Sirius ladled out portions to Lily and Remus. After a few sips, some color returned to their faces.

Deprived of something to do, Sirius took up pacing in front of the fireplace. Peter was seated on the floor by the fireplace, wringing his hands. Despite being unaffected by the spell, James managed to look paler than Lily somehow. He was gripping her hand so tightly that she extricated it for a moment, shook some feeling back into it, before holding James' hand again. Remus had his brow furrowed and was swirling the dregs of his drink, seemingly lost in the depths of his teacup.

For a time, nobody was talking.

"What do you reckon that spell was?" It was James who broke the silence.

"Powerful spell. Old magic." Peter said almost reverently.

"Your cousin was certainly charming." Lily said.

Sirius stopped his pacing and faced Lily. He felt the grimace on his face vanish when he saw her half smile. "I'll remember to tell her when I see her." He said dryly.

Remus had a thoughtful expression, and after a moment, spoke up. "I read about a similar spell before, doing research for Dumbledore. The _Immunda Letum- _the Blood Cleaning Curse. It's supposed to, ah, if I remember the book clearly- _amputate all of impure blood_."

"Cut their legs and arms off?" Peter asked frightened.

James, who hasn't been saying much, blanched some more.

"Very good, Mr. Lupin." A sing song voice chanted. It came from the portrait of a black haired witch, with bright, twinkling eyes, hanging on one side of the fireplace. "At least that is what Albus thinks as well."

"Artemesia, how's it hanging?" Sirius greeted.

The image of Artemesia Potter gave him a toothy grin. "Mr. Black,_ it_ has been hanging far longer than your years here on this good earth, and has a better sense of humor than yours." Then addressing the rest of the group, "The Headmaster wishes that all of you stay put for a while. He asks to have a word with you, but is currently indisposed. He says that he will be here in five minutes." The portrait of Artemesia said then disappeared out of the frame, probably to reappear in her other frame in the Headmaster's office.

The Headmaster stepped out of the fireplace exactly five minutes later and took in stock the physical condition and expressions on everybody's faces before starting.

"Remus, Lily, how are the two of you?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"I'm quite fine, headmaster, just a little shaken. It is Lily that-"

"-I'm fine as well." Lily interrupted.

"The effects of the spell seem temporary, and all that could be done is to comfort those affected by it. The calming draught, as you may have discovered," he gazed at the cups on the low table, "is the best remedy that could be given at the moment and Healers from St. Mungo's are having the victims at Alley Square take it as well." Dumbledore explained.

"How come Remus wasn't as badly affected as Lily?" Peter asked.

Dumbledore scratched his chin, musing the question. "I think it has something to do with parentage. Both of Remus' parents are magical, but his mother is muggle-born. Lily, on the other hand, is muggle-born. We noted that with the victims in Alley Square, only muggle-borns and half-bloods were affected, but the muggle-borns more so."

"What was that...?" James asked. "The Blood Cleaning Curse?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Artemesia tells me that Remus," He gazed in that direction, "has mentioned the Blood Cleaning Curse. This is a new spell, but it is based on that one. Several Ministry employees are already casting spell diagnostics to determine the structure of this spell, and it seems as if it was based on the _Immunda Letum_."

"Remus said the Blood Cleaning Curse amputates all those of impure blood." Peter said.

"Yes, and this one causes minor injuries." Dumbledore continued. "I think that was done in the event that Voldemort's followers are caught. In this case, the law states that they can only be fined for a temporarily lasting spell. In fact there is a higher penalty for casting a furnunculus hex, or any spell done in a public gathering that needs to be reversed."

Sirius let out a long string of expletives.

"As much as I agree with the sentiment, Sirius, that is what is stated in our laws. It is however our moral duty to do something since the Ministry has been responding passively to this." Dumbledore said. "There is a need to start an organized front against the darkness. I will contact all of you in a few days to discuss this further. But we will take action against such maltreatment."

There were varying degrees of agreement expressed by the group.

"So what has happened in Alley Square? Have any of my lovely family members been caught?" Sirius asked bitterly.

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. "Bellatrix Black was apprehended. So were the Lestrange brothers, Avery, McNair, Dolohov and Jugson. However, they have been released. Like I said, the penalty for a temporary spell is a fine. But the other known supporters, like Malfoy, Narcissa Black and Regulus," Dumbledore tilted his head at Sirius, "seemed to have slipped from the Ministry's fingers."

Sirius bit back another set of expletives. Lily looked like she was going to spit nails. James shushed her and stroked her hair. Remus simply looked resigned.

"As much as I want to stay in your lovely home, James, I have to take my leave. I need to return to Alley Square to see to some things." Then he turned to Sirius. "Sirius, I wish to have a word with you. Would it be all right for you to wait for me at Hogwarts?"

After saying their good byes, Sirius followed Dumbledore through the fireplace.

8888

Sirius paced the length of Dumbledore's office over and over. He had been doing that in Godric's Hollow. Hell, he'd been doing it since his first year, whenever he got stuck on guard duty for one or another Marauder prank. He had never been a patient bloke and took to waiting as well as pigs took to flying on broomsticks.

"You can stop that now." Artemesia said idly. "I know it seems unlikely, but I am getting nauseous with your incessant movement."

With the exception of Artemesia, all of the other headmasters' portraits were either dozing or out of their frames. But Sirius could swear that amidst the loud snoring, one or two of them peeked out of slited eyes.

"I need to do something." Sirius growled. "I should be back at Godric's Hollow helping Lily and James. Or making sure Remus gets home safely. At least _doing something!_"

"Yes, another cauldron full of Calming Draught would _surely_ help." The reply came with a muffled laugh. "As if the nearly full one you left behind wasn't enough."

That stopped Sirius. Reluctantly, he took a seat, feeling like a green student on his first detention.

"Thank you." Artemesia gave him a regal stare, which didn't last long and she ended up letting out a resigned sigh. "You are quite lucky I find you charming, Mr. Black. That and the fact that I'm long dead. Or you wouldn't get away with half of the nonsense you, my great, great, great nephew and the rest of your little pack attends to so fervently."

"You flatter us."

She gave an uncharacteristically unladylike snort. "_I concede._ So that you wouldn't be troubled, I'll inform you of what is happening to your friends. They are _quite all right_. James has decided to stay in Godric's Hollow for the night, instead of that cramped place of his. After you left, James' parents have returned to Godric's Hollow. They were quite worried when they heard what happened and rushed to Alley Square. It took them awhile to get hold of Moody, who informed them that you lot took Ms. Evans and Mr. Lupin away. They put two and two together and went home." She rolled her eyes. "Took them long enough, too. The soft fools."

Sirius smirked. "What a fine Slytherin you are."

"Why thank you, Mr. Black. Anyway, Mr. Pettigrew left a few minutes after you. He said he had to get home to his mother who would be crying her eyes out with worry."

"Mr. Lupin stayed until the Potters arrived then gave a polite good bye. Seeing as I am limited by my portraits, I do not know if your two friends arrived at their intended destinations safely."

"With the departure of the two, Ms. Evans and Jamie had an altercation over where Ms. Evans should stay. She insisted on going to her parents' house, to see to her family, but my descendant was quite insistent on having her stay."

"Without a doubt, Lily got her way." Sirius grinned.

Artemesia returned his grin. "Without a doubt."

A discrete cough had the portrait regaining her regal composure and Sirius turning around to face the current headmaster.

"As interesting Lily's and James' private life is, there are other things to discuss." Dumbledore said, looking meaningfully at the portrait and taking his place behind his desk. Artemesia gave Sirius a dramatic wink and promptly fell asleep.

After tea was offered and declined, the headmaster began what he intended to discuss.

"I have asked you before to continue the proprietorship of your uncle's shop because its location in Knockturn Alley seemed ideal in gathering information on Voldemort's supporters. I must ask you now to do a bigger task." Dumbledore said gravely.

"We have a spy who is trying to get into Voldemort's inner circle. Given the dangers of that position, the passing of the information that she has gathered has become difficult because of the necessity of keeping up her cover. Before, the passing of information to her supervisor was enough, since the supervisor could inform me of such. But now, the movements of everybody are being closely watched, particularly that of her supervisor, so we must turn to other means of communication."

"I took into consideration your skill in practical defense, as such. More importantly, it wouldn't be suspicious if she goes into a shop in Knockturn Alley, especially if the said shop claims to sell dark artifacts."

The younger man bobbed his head. "I see."

"However, once in a while I may ask you to meet with our contact outside of the shop." Dumbledore stared at him over steepled fingers. "I know that this is asking much of you, and it will place your life in danger."

Sirius shook his head. "No problem. If it has to be done, it will be done."

Dumbledore gave him a faint smile.

"Your contact will call you with a spell and you will apparate to its source. You will then act as courier between her and me."

Dumbledore then proceeded to show him what the spell looks like.

"A'right." Sirius began. "But what would be the sign for me to identify this spy."

"She will show you a sign, and you will show her the same sign in return. This sign, a sign of the phoenix." Dumbledore said and whirled his wand in the air.

A wisp of smoke emerged from the tip, seemed to solidify and form a stylized image of a phoenix. Sirius committed the image to memory, then watched the smoky form disappear and ruminated on this task that was given to him.

* * *

AN:  
I've invented the sign of the phoenix as a variation of the morsmordre spell.  
A change in POV. I had agonized over doing this, then in the end decided to go for it. If I'm gonna make mistakes, might as well make the ones that I enjoy doing. :) 

**aztecgold882:** thank you forconsistently reviewing.i hope this explains why Sirius owns a shop in Knockturn Alley. ;)i wanted to do something different but (relatively) in canon.it may not sound like Sirius' career choice, but that's bcoz it has aback story&it's gonna to come up later on.

**reading addict:** thank you. Sirius with the shop- see my reply to aztecgold. With the owls, yup in OotP, no owls in the ministry but that law hasn't been in effect yet & I have a little something that used to be in ch.3 but is now in 13 to explain that. As for the speech, i guess it's one of the themes here. i wanted to show how not everything is black and white and how something that was quite evil (their stand) could be disguised as appealing.

**Je suis une pizza: **Wow! Thank you so much for that. After all those nice things, I'm so frightened to say this now but I don't want you to read this then be misled- I began this as a writing exercise to see if I can do romance which is a genre i'm not comfortable writing. With that out, I hope that doesn't turn you off from reading more. I'm too fond of the social structure and politics to absent it from the story, but at some point, it will take a back seat to the romance and character motivation because of the genre. _But pls. stay_ and continue to read.

**M.D. Jackson: t**hank you for that. i hope you continue reading and enjoy the rest of the story.


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**

The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season

**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..."

**Chapter Five**

They were in the later half of their teenage years and all grown up. (Although Remus would have debated that that description didn't really apply to him.) Yet there were habits started in their first year that seem to have a longer life span than most.

That was why, despite the growing dark and the crisp wind, Sirius was standing outdoors staring into a toasty living room wishing he had his far warmer muggle leather jacket instead of his wizarding coat on.

He was checking up on Peter, making sure he arrived safely. It was something he, James and Remus did: letting Peter disapparate first just to make sure that there were no straggling body parts, having Peter transfigure first to keep him safe during the werewolf transformations, shoving Peter through the portrait hole first before they all scrambled in after him. There was a long history behind what he was doing.

But after what happened in Alley Square, James would most likely be spending a few more hours in the Evans' home, to dote on Lily and to double check the protection wards she set up; as if Lily, auror-in-training, wasn't skilled enough to do so competently. A small smile found its way to his lips. Funny, the things that love makes his friend do.

And Remus, having been affected by the spell, was in no condition to stand in the cold night to peer into Peter's house. So that left only Sirius.

It would have been easier to do if Peter had a more welcoming family, Sirius mused. Just pop your head into the fire, say hi and wait for Peter to say hi back. There was no need for this standing in the cold, looking up once in a while at the cloudy sky, and silently threatening all the powers that be not to make it rain.

Peter's father made their already complicated lives a little bit more complicated.

They had first suspected it when Peter returned for their second year with a few bad bruises. Peter had insisted that it was from the rough and tumble games he played with his neighbors. The story was hardly consistent with what they knew of Peter's mother since the woman in the station who mollycoddled the boy didn't seem like a mother who would allow her son to spend his summer with horseplay. Then there were the Christmas Holidays that Peter refused to spend at home.

By their third year, they had taken turns spending summer break at each others' houses. Sirius had begged off for the obvious reasons; from what the rest of the Marauders had seen of the Black family, they weren't excited to spend time in 12 Grimmauld Place. But when it was time for them to stay at Peter's place, he had simply said, _it's bad at home._ He didn't elaborate. They didn't press. It was the closest Peter had come to acknowledging the abuse.

When they had graduated, he had asked Peter if he wanted to board with him. Peter refused, saying that he didn't want to leave his mum alone in that house.

Yet tonight seemed like a good night. Sirius could not see anything chaotic happening in the Pettigrew household. Mr. Pettigrew was probably still out, somewhere, maybe on late night Ministry business or more likely a late night drink with a couple of svelte blondes.

Peering inside, he saw Mrs. Pettigrew, with her short, pudgy stature and tight blond curls, lying in an overstuffed armchair looking like a five year old. Then he saw Peter emerge from upstairs. He watched as Peter wrapped a blanket around his mother and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Sirius' hand stopped in mid-tap in front of the window pane; it was so rare for Peter to have a quiet moment with his mum and he couldn't bring himself to interrupt that.

He felt a flash of something run through him, and if he were honest with himself, he would have recognized it as longing, but he did not acknowledge the feeling. He missed the sense of family, even if he didn't have much of it before he was disowned. It wasn't his family, in particular, but his idea of what a family should be like; how James' and Remus' families were like.

He had been disowned, ages ago. They had let him go, let him leave that house without so much as a note telling him to come home and talk it over.

He should let it go. _This_ was his family now- Moony, Wormtail and Prongs.

Peter was as safe as he could be, since they couldn't really protect their little friend from a danger that he didn't outright admit.

With a last, lingering look on a mother and son who mutually loved each other, he turned around and vanished with a crack.

8888

"Sirius, come in." Mr. Lupin greeted warmly as he gave their visitor a polite handshake and led him into the entrance hall.

"Who is that, John? Oh," Mrs. Lupin peered around the doorway to his left. She had a wand in one hand, a dish in the other, and soapsuds clinging to her sleeve. "I'll give you a hug, but..." she raised her full hands by means of apology.

"Oh, it's quite all right, Mrs. Lupin. Remus would never let me live it down." Sirius gave her smile and a wink. She shook her head at his antics and excused herself to finish cleaning the dishes.

"You just missed him, Sirius." Mr. Lupin said, leading him into the living room.

"He went out?" That surprised him. Remus hadn't mentioned anything about going out tonight. And it was quite unlike him to do so, considering what happened that afternoon.

Mr. Lupin nodded, studying Sirius, a curious expression on his face. "Remus said you, Peter and James were going out for the night. I tried to dissuade him, after what happened in Alley Square, but he said you have been planning it for some time now. Is there-"

"-No, sir." Sirius interrupted him.

_Remus, what the hell are you pulling._

Mr. Lupin was still looking expectantly at him. It reminded him of the patented look McGonagall reserved just for them. No wonder, that of the four of them, Remus was the Marauder who could always fib his way through her; apparently he had a lot of practice at home.

"We did plan to go out." Sirius said slowly, buying time to think up an excuse. "I was supposed to pass by for him, but I got tied up so I wasn't sure if he went ahead or if he waited for me. I guess we'll just meet up there."

He felt bad for lying blatantly to Mr. Lupin, but Remus must have a reason, sensible bloke that he is. After a few more spur of the moment fibs, Sirius found himself outside of the Lupin household without a clue as to how to find Remus.

Sirius pondered for a moment if he should go and look for Remus, then decided against it. Remus apparently, did not want them or his parents to know where he was going. If that were the case, Sirius felt that it was a waste of his own time and energy to traipse around the entire of England just to look for someone who's old enough to look after himself. Sirius grinned and mentally added- _and have fun in the process._

* * *

AN:

Sympathetic Peter- I agree with je suis une pizza, he can't be all bad if they were friends with him and if he was able to hoodwink even Dumbledore.  
what was Remus doing? maybe something that made Sirius suspect him... maybe...

Thank you to all those who reviewed and those who read without comment (if my hit counter is to be believed, that is. Of course, people could have clicked the links by mistake or just didn't like it at all.)

**aztecgold882:** thank you so much! i love your long reviews. i'll note in case i put something out of canon or if i assumed something that's pretty major. i'm glad you're excited about the story and ch.6.

**je suis une pizza:** thank you! elvis fan, lol! maybe i was reflecting a part of myself, coz sometimes i don't check the genre when I read fanfics&end up pleasantly (or unpleasantly) surprised. ;) the marauders are around 19 or 20, i made Dorcas 18 or 19, same age as Regulus. the ages may be off, coz i'm not familiar with them since they aren't mentioned in the books. i'm sure jkr probably did in some interview which is why a lot of writers are pretty certain of their timelines.

**reading addict:** thank you.


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..."

**Chapter Six**

Dorcas tried to ignore the incessant tapping of the owl's beak on her desk, but the gorgeous, snowy bird acted as if she owned the world, and these mere mortals were under her beck and call.

Giving a huff and an apologetic look to Gus, she hurried to her desk and attended to the owl. She untied the note and pocketed it; then tossed the owl a few treats she kept in her drawer and watched it rise in a lazy circle and fly out of the Department of Mysteries.

She had seen the imperial seal on the note and she had no plans of opening it here, under the annoyed sight of her boss and the curious ones of the civilians.

_Go figure Regulus Black owns a haughty owl._

Instead, she returned immediately to the task at hand, spurred by the impatient _tsk, tsk_ of Gustav. She had been assisting him in recording a prophecy into one of the Keepsake Glasses, the small, glass balls that held the record of a prophetic image.

It was quite different from using a pensieve. Memories are bulky, slippery substances so pensieves are designed to be extremely strong containers with size modification charms, reinforced by runic spells.

Prophetic records, on the other hand, are merely that- records; they are duplicates of the actual memory. Being duplicates, they are wispy, compressible and they easily evaporate. Also, one cannot enter a record the way one can enter a memory held in a pensieve.

There was a man and a woman reporting the prophesy, both having been in the room with the seer at the time. The seer was the woman's brother, and he had prophesied the arrival of the couple's baby. The couple was ecstatic, and wanted to record it for posterity sake, and had giddily shared that they were going to name the still unborn child, Fate.

While Dorcas cleaned and prepared the Keepsake Glasses to be used, Gus requested the woman to take a seat and relax. After having her perform some breathing exercises, he asked her to close her eyes and count to ten.

"...eight...nine...ten."

Dorcas knew that the counting didn't have any bearing on the spell, it only served to relax the witness.

"I vant you to think ov the prophezy." Gus instructed then touched his wand to her forehead. _"Scribere Occulus_," he shouted forcefully.

The skin where the wand's point connected glowed softly for half a minute, then the light died.

Gus then touched his wand to a Keepsake Glass. Smoke slowly suffused the glass ball. Once it was filled, the smoke seemed to emit bright light and the glass orb became warm. Gus handed it to Dorcas, who then labeled the prophesy with the date, the names of the seer and the witness and a brief description of the prophecy.

Gus repeated the procedure on the husband.

Once they were done, the Keeper of Prophecies led the couple, the seer and Dorcas towards the vault were they kept the records.

It was a vast room, cold and dark, filled with shelves that held row after row of glass orbs. Each of the rows was labeled with numbers, illuminated by the torches located on intervals on the shelves.

At the back of the room, Gustav placed the two glass balls on an empty shelf. Then Gus muttered an incomprehensible spell, which was supposed to prevent anyone else, aside from the person the prophecy was about, from retrieving the record.

As they walked out of the vault, the three visitors pointed at various times at different shelves and whispered among themselves.

"...You reckon that's Cassandra Trelawney's prediction of Grindewald's rise to power? It says C.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D., you know, Dumbledore..."  
"... Oh that could just be Carter Took telling Algernon Doltray about the Canons losing again. Remember that, all over The Quibbler..."  
"...Not much of a prediction, then..."  
"...Surely that M. to N., is Merlin blabbing to Niniane about Arthur?..."

_Or it could be Moris telling Northam that Justin Blaine wanted to leave the Night Owls, which caused the downfall of the world famous band, popular in mum and dad's time._

It had amused Dorcas when she first learned how mundane some of these prophesies were, as some really did record Quidditch predictions and celebrity gossip. The Department never turned away any of these prophesies, no matter how idiotic they were, because they were useful in the studies conducted by the Time Division of the Department.

After the couple and the seer left- with a hearty, advanced congratulations from her and a curt nod from Gus- Dorcas returned to her desk and occupied herself for half an hour with paperwork. When she was certain that Gus was no longer checking in on her, she slipped out the note from her pocket and broke the elegant seal of the Black Family.

She quickly skimmed the note, then dropped it into an empty drawer in her desk. She looked up and found Gus deeply engaged in a musty old tome.

"_Incendio_" she whispered, and watched the note turn to ashes.

* * *

She left the Prophesy Division fifteen minutes early, glad that Gus didn't notice. Regulus had invited her to lunch and she didn't want to be late but she still needed to report to Tutela. 

She gave Tutela an abbreviated version of what happened at the Rally, focusing on her role in the escape of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the two Black cousins. Everything else that happened in the rally, she was sure Tutela knew already since she spotted Benjy and Jillian in the crowd. Aside from them, she was certain there were other Incolumitas Unspeakables- the ones that she did not know of- in attendance.

Because the Division operated on a need to know basis, the only Division members that she knew of were the ones that she had worked with in the past.

She also reported on her lunch with Regulus and her intention to use it as an opportunity to insinuate further the desire to be recruited into Voldemort's Inner Circle.

* * *

Regulus note said to meet him in _Beau Bouche_, an expensive wizarding restaurant that served French cuisine. She knew that eating in _Beau Bouche_ meant fine dining and was acutely aware, even before she stepped into the restaurant that she was underdressed. 

The restaurant was a crush of swirling silks, rich velvets, elegant walking seats, deep cushy seats and marble tabletops. The patrons were dressed as if they were going to attend a ball and not just having lunch. All of them had the air of old money and old blood on them, and Dorcas highly doubted that any of them actually worked for a living. She was willing to bet a month's salary that none of them were up before eleven.

So engrossed they were in their own affairs that, much to Dorcas' relief, they only gave her barely up to standards robe a passing glance.

Even if the Meadowes were an old Wizarding family, they weren't exceptionally wealthy and lived an average, middle class existence. Her father once told her that one of their ancestors in the 13th century had squandered most of the family wealth in the brothels in Venice.

Dorcas and Darcy's inheritance, acquired because of their parents' untimely deaths, was significant enough for single women with a few needs to live off for a number of years, if they chose to, but their parents had insisted on teaching them the value of work, not merely as a source of income but for personal growth.

She found Regulus, seated at an intimate table near the back, looking extremely bored and- she stopped and tried to give an appropriate description- _feral_. Unconsciously, she tapped the pocket of her robe for her wand. Up her left sleeve, she had a second one strapped to her forearm.

"Ms. Meadowes." Regulus stood up, smoothing his dark green robes of some expensive cloth she didn't have the background to identify and planted a kiss on her hand.

"Please, Dorcas." She said pleasantly, although the kiss raised her hackles. The whole place did.

He pulled her chair out for her and waited patiently for her to be seated. Once they were settled, he repeated, "Dorcas. You must call me Regulus."

Then he gave her a charming smile and brushed his dark hair from his blue eyes. "Didn't you have a nickname in school? Or is it so unsophisticated to use one?"

She hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to impart something this personal, but knew that he would find out anyway. She just didn't expect him to assume such intimacies with her. "It's Cassie."

"Cassie. How... quaint. I would have imagined a more elegant name for such a breathtaking witch, but somehow, it suits you." He repeated it several times, letting the letters roll off his tongue.

Dorcas felt a tightening in her gut and wondered if there was some spell that could be cast this way.

His eyes, which were a light blue color, sought hers. "I regret not knowing that, not knowing _you_ _more intimately_ in Hogwarts."

She fought the urge to break eye contact. "There were a lot of friendships in Hogwarts that I regret not making," she said. _There,_ she dropped the hint with much the same level of subtlety a Hungarian Horntail has.

He gave her a broad smile. Apparently what she said gained his approval.

"The correct ties are very important these days."

"I certainly agree. I work for the Ministry, and I can see where these Ministry fools are taking these laws. These mudbloods are everywhere these days." She felt like cringing. _Mum and Dad must be turning over in their graves._

Regulus' smile got broader. He took out a cigarette, offered her one- which she declined- and lighted his own. He leaned a little further back, draped his arm on the crushed velvet covered backrest of the seat and let out a few perfectly formed smoke rings. He gave Dorcas the impression of having practiced the pose and the skill with the cigarettes in private, a small personal achievement.

After a few exhales, he continued. "I am happy that you share my opinion. It's rare to find _a woman_ who shares my ideals."

Dorcas was glad that that particular line of talk was prevented by the need to place their orders, and later by the arrival of the food. Instead, they made small talk about the people they went to Hogwarts with.

Dorcas recalled that Regulus was close to Stephen Manning and Blythe Craw. Stephen, if she remembered correctly, was a couple of years ahead of them and played beater on the Slytherin team. Blythe was in their year, a Slytherin and very pretty. Regulus told her that Stephen was playing quidditch professionally and Blythe he saw here and there during parties.

Once their plates were cleared and aromatic coffee was served on dainty demitasses, Regulus leaned towards her ear and lowered his voice.

"I believe we were talking about appropriate friendships. What you did, during the Rally, that was a very important extension of your friendship. One that is valued highly by... _the right people._"

She was going to get invited to Voldemort's group, the insinuation was so palpable, she could almost touch it. "And who are the right people?" She asked coolly.

It was like dangling a toy in front of a cat; if kept just out of reach, it made the cat try harder.

"People born with the birthright to in _this group_. The only group to belong to." He leaned closer, his breath grazing her ear and looked at her meaningfully. This time, Dorcas resisted the urge to squirm.

"You belong to _this group_?"

"Yes, and so could you." He gave her a small smile. "Usually, it takes longer to get in, but that act in the Rally has sparked some interest in the higher ups. But you still have to prove yourself worthy of the group."

"Do I?" Dorcas fixed herself in an expression of boredom, as if she was only slightly interested.

Regulus extracted a letter from his robes and placed it on the table between them. She studied the seal, recognizing the Malfoy family crest. She moved her hand to pick it up, but was prevented by Regulus' hand clasping hers.

"Don't open it here. Do it later, in your home. I'll owl you, when we will next meet."

Then he stroked the back of her hand a bit before letting it go. She quickly pocketed the note then kept her hands on her lap.

Regulus paid for their lunch and led her towards the door. Before leaving, he turned towards her, keeping his mouth close to her ear. She didn't really know him and here he was, acting fresh with her and invading her personal space. Had this not been so important, she would have hexed him to kingdom come.

"I had a fantastic time." He whispered. "I can't wait to see you again, _to get closer_."

She gave a nod and tried to rearrange her face into some semblance of a smile. Once the requisite time for leave-taking was fulfilled, she disapparated as quickly as possible.

8888

She was surprised by Regulus' actions.

In Hogwarts, he had been a Black, through and through. Everything one would associate with the Black family- name dropping, bragging about expensive things, pulling off the occasional prank, knowing quite a lot of dark spells- Regulus did. He did all that in public, in the common areas. But there had always been a bit of timidity in him, as if despite being a Black, he was a little unsure of himself.

Back in the Slytherin common room, Regulus was different. This timidity was more obvious. He had always hung on Bellatrix and Lucius' instructions. When the two left in their second year, she remembered Regulus floundering for a few weeks before he joined a new clique. Even in Regulus' choice of friends, Stephen Manning and Blythe Craw- both of whom were extremely popular- he was the follower, the one who wasn't noticed.

In fact, he had always flown below the radar, and it seemed that when anybody in school talked about the Black boy, they were always referring to his older brother.

It was only around two years out of Hogwarts, but the Regulus she had lunch with was different. He was arrogant, annoying and presumptuous, as if somebody had been drilling into his head that he owned everything and everyone. Dorcas had a pretty good guess as to who those somebodies were. She could see how attractive to him the promise of superiority was. And it was a superiority that he could get by simply being a Black. There was no need for practicing to be better in quidditch or studying to get higher grades. Or whatever the equivalent of those achievements were in the real world.

But there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she couldn't place. It was as if she had seen before the persona that Regulus was presenting but she just couldn't figure out where.

* * *

She returned to work, assisted with another prophecy record, updated their books and transcribed and cross-referenced the topics Gus requested. Then at closing, she exited the Department of Mysteries doubled back through the circular room, and headed to the Incolumitas Division. 

She spent an hour, training with Benjy. It was a relatively relaxed session because once she got the hang of the movements, it was a matter of practicing and polishing. So they spent most of it talking about the rally the day before.

At the end of her training session (if she could deign to call it that), she visited Jillian Carson and thanked her profusely for her help during the rally.

"Honey, that was nothing." Jillian shrugged. There were a dozen books, quills and ink pots on her desk. Each of the quills was moving by magic, duplicating texts from the books. Jillian's job in the Incolumitas Division involves researching the spells and artifacts used by the wizards their monitoring.

"Jill, how did you find out about the street?"

Jillian gave a hearty laugh. The quills stopped and tittered for a moment before continuing. "That's one of the advantages of dating a Prewett."

Dorcas smiled inwardly and studied the books on Jillian's table. Some were written in Egyptian and Greek. "Is this research for the Black's spell yesterday?"

Jillian let out a gust of breath, put down her quill and rubbed her eyes. The other quills stood still for a moment then fluttered on top of the books. "I swear, they get inventive as the years go by. Remember that notorious muggle baiting hex they invented a couple of years ago?"

Dorcas cast around her mind for the right memory since there had been a rash of muggle baiting incidents particularly two or three years back when the pureblood cause changed modus operandi from small gatherings to large public rallies. Some of the Wizarding public, given their biases, had initially found it amusing rather than troubling but the Ministry had difficulty controlling the outbreak. Jillian, Dorcas recalled, had been in a lot of pressure to think up of counter jinxes and reversals and the Incolumitas Division had worked overtime gathering evidence on the culprits which they handed over to the Aurors. The Aurors, of course never knew that the evidence that mysteriously turned up in Auror HQ came from them and thought that one of the culprits grew a conscience and tattled.

"Is this the one Magic Reversal had hell with? The one with the doorknobs?" Dorcas asked. One of the more troublesome of the hexes, which had been dubbed in the Division as the "Flooing Knob Hex", involved lacing the hands of the muggle with modified Floo powder. When the muggle goes home and tries to open his door, he gets transported back to where he came from, like the office or a pub.

"Uhuh. Spell diagnostics of that one showed that the Floo powder was enchanted with a set of spells, all legal. When they were taken together they produce that particular effect. But they were all based on basic things. The spells nothing above O.W.L. level and Floo powder can be bought by anybody. The person who thought of that did it for some perverse amusement; somebody brilliant but with a cruel sense of humor. _But Bellatrix Black's sodding spell,_ that's just something else." Jillian explained.

"Cassie, this, you're cleared to hear. Black's spell, that's based on an ancient curse, really dark magic- incantation's _Immunda Letum._ Seriously maims muggle borns and anybody with muggle ancestry five generations back." Jillian ranted. "The one she did was a somewhat mild version but honey, I threw up a _really expensive lunch_ few times before I was able to get out of there."

"They're bloody escalating." Dorcas responded.

"Exactly. Voldemort is moving up from having his cohorts do _kiddie spells-_" she used her fingers to quote the words. "to really dangerous ones. And it's harder to research now, even with the level of access I have. And it's not like they offer Dark and Ancient Spells as part of the Hogawarts curriculum." Jillian rolled her eyes. "Knowing his ancestry, Voldemort must have been studying it from _somewhere._"

Dorcas gave a hollow laugh. "Great, great, great, something grandfather Slytherin must have left him crib sheets."

Jillian sighed. "And he's sharing with his friends."

Madame Tutela's office was the last stop for the day. She kept her report about lunch and the Malfoy invite coolly professional.

But once she got home, the first thing she did was take a shower, hoping to erase what Jillian shared and her memories of Regulus Black's assuming hand positions during lunch.

* * *

**AN:**  
I don't know where to place this so here goes: For those who read empty names, thank you. i have a small note on that in my profile page, for those who are interested.  
back to business ;) :  
JKR describes glass orbs to store records of prophesies in OotP, but I clumsily and unartistically named them Keepsake Glasses.  
I just wanted to add this- is Dorcas an exceptionally pretty witch as Regulus implies? actually, no but I put the compliments in not because it describes her but rather it describes what he is like- giving out empty compliments seem to be in keeping with his persona.

**je suis une pizza:** luv the brooklyn slang!thank you for the sweet review. your question had me thinking if i developed that idea from reading too much fanfiction,then remembered where in canon i read it:PoA-I looked it up-(p373 of Scholastic Version ch.19 The Servant of Lord Voldemort)_"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"_the whole exchange is a wonderful read!

**aztecgold882:**thank you for the sweet review for the last ch. &for empty names. what was shown in the ch. was a lot of sirius' internal musings.he is still macho/cool about it, on the outside (or at least i try to project that in the story so note the difference between his actions& his thoughts) but he is also too intensely loyal (one of his most obvious characteristics in canon)&i can't imagine somebody that loyal without feeling any pangs when he was disowned. i see his need to belong to his family as replaced by his "adoption" by the marauders.


	8. Chapter Seven

**AN 1:  
**I just have to say this: I've heard that Tonks and Remus are canon! I think this is one of the few times when one of the wilder pairings of fanon made it on paper. For those who read my oneshots, you guys must know that I ship them

For those who have been reading Lonely Choices silently (if my hit counter is to be believed), thank you for taking the time but i do hope to hear from you guys soon even if it's just to say _i hate this-_ as long as you say why.  
answers to je suis une pizza's and aztecgold's questions are at the end of this ch. and are pretty long. This is just to warn the other readers since the scroll bar can be deceiving as to the length of this ch. The other readers can skip those.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended. 

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
_"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Seven**

The shower did much to alleviate the tension of the day, and Dorcas stepped out of it feeling relaxed, limber and a bit drowsy. Her reflexes shot, it took her a moment to register the flaming bird that settled comfortably beside Byron's cage. Byron cooed softly and looked curiously at the big, red bird.

Once the initial shock passed, Dorcas was able to greet the bird. "'Lo, Fawkes."

The bird gazed at her meaningfully and she took the letter clasped in its beak. Fawkes then flew over and settled on her shoulder, as if to read the note.

Dorcas recognized the spidery hand as Dumbledore's and opened the note immediately. In it, Dumbledore explained that he would form the Order of the Phoenix as an organized front against Voldemort and would like her to join. The note also contained that he has found her a contact and that the signal and the symbol would suffice as a means to communicate with this contact.

She pondered the note for a bit. She has heard of the Order and knew of their role in the last war, having read about it in the old Incolumitas files. She knew that the old Incolumitas head, Madame Tutela's predecessor was an Order member and both organizations worked together in the war effort.

Because of the upcoming war, Tutela has discussed with her the possibility of being a spy, and Dorcas has shared this with Dumbledore. Dumbledore and Dorcas had already agreed that when such a need arises, Dorcas' couldn't meet with Dumbledore anymore, since Voldemort's followers would most likely keep tabs on the people keeping touch with Dumbledore.

They had studied and discarded the option of routing the information through Tutela, since Dumbledore had shared her assessment that Tutela's primary loyalty is to the Division and would not agree to pass on information if she thought of Dumbledore as too high profile and whose reputation could compromise the Division.

The use of Fawkes had also been pondered on and discarded since the phoenix could act only as a messenger from Dumbledore to Dorcas. Since they expected some of the messages to come directly from the field, she couldn't very well lug around a phoenix (especially one that was known to be Dumbledore's) to send messages back to him.

The only option left would be to assign Dorcas a contact.

Dorcas pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled a brief note of affirmative to Dumbledore regarding joining the order.

She gave the note to Fawkes and sent him off with a friendly pat on the head. In a flash of light, he was gone.

* * *

As the days to the Malfoy party drew closer, Dorcas started feeling a certain restlessness that she could not shake. It was a feeling she's rarely encountered before and found it uncomfortable. 

The day of the Malfoy gathering, Regulus sent her an owl at the Department with a message telling her that he will pick her up at her place. Having him know her address meant that even her flat isn't safe if she is ever found out. She didn't even bother to ask how he knew and instead sent the haughty owl back with a note saying she preferred that they meet somewhere midway to Malfoy Manor.

He didn't reply.

So when Regulus knocked at her door at seven in the evening, Dorcas had to swallow back the half formed insult she had thought of concerning highhanded misogynists.

"Blue looks lovely on you." Regulus sweetened his uncreative compliment with a roguish smile. She gave him a demure one back, but inside she was bristling.

Ordinarily protected by charms against apparating, Malfoy had gotten special Ministry permission to set up an apparition point on the manicured lawns fronting the Manor. That was what Regulus boasted to her once they arrived.

The selection of the apparition point left no doubt in Dorcas' mind about Lucius' vanity. From where they stood, they had a perfect view of the Manor, with its sparkling French windows, ornate pillars and stately, marble steps. Light streamed out of the windows, which were occasionally dimmed by forms of elegantly dressed people.

"I have something for you." Regulus said, stepping extremely close, once again invading her personal space. He pulled out a glittering half mask from the folds of his robes. He then waved his wand over it, transforming the silver sequins into a glittering blue to match the dark silk of her robes.

Dorcas slipped the mask on, feeling it adjust automatically to the contours of her face. It covered the space around her eyes, leaving the rest of her face bare. Regulus had slipped on his own half mask, which was shiny and white.

Regulus led her to the door, but instead of offering her his arm, he settled his palm on the small of her back. Dorcas stiffened at the touch, then willed herself to relax, hoping he didn't notice her initial reaction.

It was still early in the evening, but the Malfoy Event was already in full swing. The entrance hall of the Manor was massive, but it was full of smoke and tightly packed with people. It was with some difficulty that Dorcas and Regulus navigated their way through the hall and into an open doorway to the left.

It lead to a huge parlour, full of masked revelers who seemed to take advantage of the anonymity. Smoke hung heavily in here as well and Dorcas tried not to gag too obviously. Drinks in bright, obnoxious colors were passed around liberally and several witches and wizards were slurring their words and swaying dangerously. In plain sight, wizards and witches were passing around what seemed like a billywig stinger. Already, a number of them were floating a few inches off the ground. Some opted for more potent escapes and were shooting down vials of some thick, black stuff. And in the darker corners of the room there were men and women in amorous positions, who saw their masks as a ticket to avoid discretion.

A house elf passed by their feet and offered a tray full of drinks, reciting the contents of each of the glasses.

Regulus took a glass of Firewhiskey, downed it in one go, and took another glass.

Dorcas refused the mixed drinks with questionable names like Dragon's Lust, Pepper's Upper Potion and Hard-on the rocks and settled for a glass of wine whose label she recognized.

"Fun, isn't it?" Regulus shouted in her ear.

Dorcas was saved the need to answer by the arrival of a masked blond wizard wearing impeccable clothes. He led his companion, a blonde witch dressed in equally superior clothing, with a hand on her back.

"Regulus." Lucius, the blond wizard, greeted. Then turning to Dorcas, he bent over and pressed a kiss on her hand. "_Charmant._ Ms. Meadowes. Your gown suits you. _Amène_."

She gave a small laugh. "You are being generous with your comments." Dorcas demurred. She could sense Narcissa's scathing gaze on her.

Then all of a sudden, it struck her. The thing that was bothering her since lunch with Regulus finally clicked into place. Regulus' actions had reminded her of Lucius Malfoy. Regulus has been imitating Malfoy, thinking that it was the proper action of a pureblooded wizard.

_He must think Malfoy is the poster boy for wizarding superiority._

They downed a few more drinks and made small talk. Lucius glanced at the crowd, nodding in acknowledgment to a few people who greeted him.

Then he checked his watch and exchanged a meaningful look with Regulus.

"We've been seen enough." Lucius announced to their little group softly. Then facing Regulus, "follow after a few minutes. Narcissa, be the beautiful hostess that you are."

And with that, he was gone, weaving through the crowd of partygoers.

Narcissa begged off so that she can entertain the rest of the guests and her silver clad form glided away from them and was swallowed by the crush of people.

Dorcas turned to Regulus. "What did he mean-"

"-Shh." Regulus placed a finger over his lips. Even with the mask on, she could see that he was nervous. Through the slits, his eyes darted about the room. Sweat beaded his upper lip.

A few minutes later, he glanced at his watch and lead Dorcas back to the main hall and out to another door, this time to the right.

Dorcas unexpectedly found herself pushed into a tight space with a face full of cloth and with Regulus behind her. They were inside a cloak closet. In a quick spinning move, she had her wand out and was facing Regulus.

"Lumos." She said and light filled the tight space. Regulus had his hand up, shielding his eyes. Dorcas tried to calm her nerves. Her palms were sweating, but she ignored it and tried to rationalize the situation. It wasn't like he could try anything, since she had her wand pointed at him.

"This is going to change your life." Regulus' husky voice filled the cramped space. He leaned closer to Dorcas and snaked his arms around her as she tried to move farther away, cloak hangers banging against her head.

"Regulus, don't you-"

There was a tapping sound- Regulus rapping his knuckles on the wood behind her- and the back fell from the closet.

_What in Merlin's name..._

Dorcas saw that they were in another room, which was dank and dark and not much bigger than the cloak closet. The walls were hewn out of slabs of rock, though they didn't fit well against each other and left cracks and crevasses. A cold draft blew against her limbs and ruffled the sleeves and hem of her dress robes, still the wall scones emitted a steady, low, blue light. To one corner was a dark, menacing looking mass. Dorcas had her wand arm by her side, but it was tensed and ready.

Regulus strode purposefully towards the mass, which turned out to be an overly burdened cloak rack, and extracted two black robes.

"Don't be nervous, _ma cher_." Dorcas gave an involuntary shudder at his endearment. Regulus didn't seem to notice.

"Put these on and remove your mask," he instructed and did the same. Dorcas followed suit.

From behind the cloak rack, Regulus took out what looked like a chest. From the chest, he removed two white masks- the same masks that Dorcas knew Voldemort's followers wore.

Regulus put on his mask and motioned for her to do the same.

Much like the sequined one, this one followed the contours of her face once donned. But unlike the sequined one, this smelled like rubber, covered her entire face and was, quite frankly, _hideous._

"Follow me."

They apparated into a grove rimmed by trees. Dorcas studied her surroundings to get a clue to their location. But there was nothing but trees and more trees. And they were common enough to grow along most places in England.

Yet there was something sinister about this forest.

_There were no night sounds._

The thought rose menacingly in her mind. No bird calls, no scampering of little animals in the underbrush, no howling of the more dangerous animals in the distance. The animals could sense the fear, and instead of that attracting the predator in them, they recognized the danger and left.

The light of the waxing moon and the green fire burning in the middle the grove were inadequate to dispel the darkness, and served more to heighten the shadows. There seemed to be movement in the shadows, and Dorcas supposed that these were the black clad Voldemort's supporters, like them.

Regulus hand still rested on her lower back, and for the first time that evening, Dorcas could feel that it was shaking violently. He didn't seem to notice, but he gripped his wand so tightly in his other hand, that his knuckles shown white in the moonlight.

Her own wand was a comforting weight in her left hand and she gave her arm a small shake to keep it limber.

There was a strange hissing coming from the middle of clearing. Dorcas strained her eyes and saw a snake, gleaming in front of the fire; it was wound up in several coils and its girth was as big as log.

"Come." The hissing like quality of the word didn't come from the snake but rather from the hooded person who stepped into the light of the dim, green flames.

It was Voldemort.

He was wearing a robe similar to theirs, the hood covering his face.

She did not know what he looked like. There were no pictures of him, even among the Incolumitas files and the few times that she saw him attend the public gatherings to speak, when the pureblood cause was still new and gathering momentum, he had been wearing a mask, like his followers.

Gazing at him now, he seemed unnaturally tall, as if he was the stretched out shadow of a tree. But the hands, she could see the hands. Extending out from the sleeves of the robe, they were white, bony and of abnormal length; even from their distance she could make out the long fingers beckoning them forward.

Propelled by Regulus' hand on her back, Dorcas willed her legs to move her. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her ribcage. She took a few calming breaths and distracted herself from her fear by concentrating on moving. Her unspeakable training was coming back to her instinctively.

She turned slightly to the person next to her. Regulus looked frightened as well, and with that, she was oddly comforted.

Once the specters in the shadows moved into the circle of light cast by the fire, Voldemort began speaking.

"We have been waiting for so long, biding our time and trying to convince the Wizarding race of our rightful place in society. We are the pinnacle of the living, and it is time that we showed them our strength."

There were a few cries of _yes, my lord._

"Our rallies, our little parlour tricks, these are all amusing, but they are mere games, little acts to test the waters. But the time has come for us to show our hand. Today we make a vow to uphold our tradition,_ our very essence. _Today we will claim our rightful place on top of the mudbloods, halfbloods and blood traitors. We will cast out all that is impure in our society."

Voldemort stepped closer to the fire and drew the hood from his face. Gasps echoed in the clearing as the light of the fire flickered and danced over Voldemort's face. It was white and stretched with slits for a nose and eyes that glowed red, more so in the strange, green firelight.

Regulus' hand shook more violently against her back. Dorcas felt her entire body go weak.

_He no longer looks human._

Fear and surprise was strong and palpable in the air and Dorcas wondered if Voldemort's inner circle had seen how he looked like before his transformation.

"With the blood and knowledge of my ancestor, the great Salazar Slytherin, I have aimed to grow in power and have succeeded. I have been reborn. Just like me, so shall all of you be reborn. Today is the day of our rebirth. _We shall eliminate all that is inconsequential!_ _We shall conquer death!_ Today you are renamed as my _Death Eaters!_"

His high-pitched voice was drowned out by a murmur of ascent. When Voldemort was satisfied, he raised his hand and waited for the sound to die out.

"We will grow in power, and our ranks will swell. But you are my firsts and you will be tested. Those who will survive will be able to join my inner circle, and I will give a reward. I will call for you, in the next few days."

A bulky Death Eater stepped away from the circle. "My Lord," his voice trembled, "how will we know when to respond."

Voldemort let out a high pitched laugh and pointed his wand at the wizard.

_"Crucio!"_

A piercing cry cut through the forest. The spell ended, but the man lay crumpled on the ground, emitting big, racking sobs. The big serpent slithered around him, and slowly wound around his body.

Again, there was a hissing sound, and the snake slithered back to its master.

Regulus' hand gripped the back of her robes and tightened convulsively. Her heart rate increased but Dorcas knew it was wise not to show fear.

"You imbecile." The high-pitched voice said. "How did you know to come here? I have my ways to get my orders to you."

The man dragged his body towards Voldemort and kowtowed to him. "I am sorry, my Lord."

"Rise, Delaney. I want to see you prove yourself to me when you are called."

"My Death Eaters, I will teach you spells that will give you immeasurable power. And in our success, you shall share my place at the top of Wizarding society. That is part of the reward of following me. Now bow to me, my children."

Dorcas found herself kneeling, but she kept her eyes trained on the figure in the center.

Then the Dark Lord disapparated and the magical fire went out.

The Death Eaters blended into the shadows and one by one disapparated.

8888

She returned with Regulus to Malfoy Manor.

In the dark room that she had come to call in her mind as the closet annex, she started to return the mask and robes, but was stopped by Regulus.

"Transfigure it and keep it. We need to have it on hand."

They returned to the party and resumed the drinking and the small talk. The guests were too out of it to notice that they even left. The party had served its purpose; it had given the Death Eaters an alibi and (Dorcas concluded) would probably a common practice for future secret meetings. Nobody would question the testimony of the people here, since most of them were wealthy and pureblooded.

Dorcas shook her head.

_It didn't matter that they were also wasted, stoned or too sexually preoccupied to be believable._

After Regulus third glass of Firewhiskey- which Dorcas secretly thought she needed as well after what they saw- she found that it wasn't difficult to slip away from him and the Manor.

She knew she had to do this quickly and return before Regulus noticed she was missing.

She walked quietly around the back, until she found herself facing the vine covered perimeter wall. She transfigured the vines into a rope ladder and scaled the wall, and carefully slid down to the other side.

The wall separated the Manor from a vast tract of open farmland. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the lay of the land. She didn't dare cast an illuminating charm.

Just before the horizon, she could see a tiny pinprick of light. _A barn or farmhouse._ It was the only one. The dark green of the open space was peppered by trees and bisected by dim, silver lines. _Roads._

There were no signs of street light anywhere.

Her best bet to meet her contact would be on one of these deserted roads, as far away from the Manor and from the barn as possible.

Glancing around, she checked if the coast was clear. She waved her wand a little bit, testing the magical barriers. The Malfoy's wards extended only up to the wall. But she took a few steps away from the wall, just to be safe.

Dorcas closed her eyes and pointed the tip of her wand to her forehead. Concentrating hard to even out her breathing, she focused her thoughts on what happened in that unknown forest.

"_Scribere Occulus_"

She felt her wand shake a little by the force of the spell and she tried to steady her hand. There was a curious sucking sensation on the point where her wand touched her forehead. The memories of the Voldemort meeting repeated over and over, each time going faster. Then it stopped.

She opened her eyes and blinked repetitively, trying to accustom herself to the dim light. She fished for a small glass orb from her pocket and stored the memory in it.

After repeating the process, she scanned the lay of the land again, then selected an area to meet her contact.

* * *

**AN 2:**  
**answers to questions:**  
**je suis une pizza: **Thank you for taking the time to review despite being in a hurry and for giving the second review. ;)Sorry, they didn't meet up in this ch. but they will in the next. I haven't read HBP yet, sadly. I said wouldn't post this until I do but it's been 3 weeks which is unfair to the faithful readers. I've been holding out cause I wanted to be able to edit the other unposted ch. to see how much I can keep in canon and, well, hoping to get more reviews (blushes). Yet it seems like I won't have much time in the next few weeks to either read or update so it's only fair that I get something out.  
**aztecgold882:** thank you for reviewing & for not being disappointed with such a simple answer. i had to make up quite a bit of Regulus character since there is very little written in canon about him. I agree with you & he does strike me as timid as well, but not the kind of timidity you see in 1st grade children on their 1st day of school but the kind that's hesitant to make decisions on his own, so he's looking for a male role model. thus Dorcas' recollection of him as having laid low in Hogwarts & always being the follower. I would like to think that his role model was originally Sirius but with their parents disowning him, Regulus would naturally look for someone else- hence Lucius. I can see his choice of Lucius as a compromise between his pride at being a Black & his timidity- Lucius being someone his parents would approve of. Why not the Black patriarch as his role model? Knowing what we know of Mrs. Black, I see her husband being subjugated. Of course all of these are assumptions could be far off the mark from how jkr sees him.

whew! sorry that was so long and quite revealing. i sort of showed my cards to everybody!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
_"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Eight**

Sirius leaned against a tree, waiting for the spy to arrive. _Waiting._ The word sounded like a curse to his ears. It was one of the most unappealing words in the English language.

He was in James' London apartment with Lily and the Marauders, when a shot of silver light hovered in front of his face and swirled around to form location coordinates. It was the calling spell that Dumbledore had shown him. He bid a hasty farewell to the enjoyable company of his friends and had Apparated all the way to this _God forsaken place,_ only to end up _waiting._

He gave a huff.

If he knew it was going to take the spy this long, he would have taken the time to fly his motorcycle over. He leaned back a little further into the shadows of the tree and controlled the notion to start pacing.

It wasn't as if he resented the mission.

He knew that they each had some task assigned to them by Dumbledore. And in these uncertain times, it was the best that they could do. Peter greased certain government employees for information and services. Remus did research work on the exotic and dangerous spells that the Voldemort supporters seem to favor. He did information gathering from the shop in Knockturn and sometimes he and James disappeared for days at a time doing reconnaissance work.

What he _did resent_ was the inaction

The appointed place was by a tree, a few meters off a small, country road. He kept to the shadows, and did not even dare light his wand. The Malfoy Manor was the closest Wizarding structure for kilometers around, and that was a good reason for caution, if he needed one.

_Constant Vigilance._

Moody would be proud.

He couldn't really see the Manor; he only knew that it was in the general vicinity. He had been there once, when he was very young and his parents had brought the whole family for a- _what did his mother call it- _a fête. (He had met Lucius and his parents for the first time, and it had cemented his childish opinion that stuffiness is a hereditary trait of a pureblood.) At that time they had flooed and he never saw the Manor from the outside. But he heard it was charmed to be invisible until one ran smack into its walls.

He thought he spotted movement, and squinted his eyes a bit. Without streetlights and wand-light, he had to rely on the nearly full moon for his light. The thought brought Remus's transformation in a weeks time to mind and it also reminded him of the strange conversation he had with Remus's dad. It had slipped his mind and he hadn't been able to ask Remus about it. The thoughts distracted him while he waited for his contact.

A figure was approaching from the road. Sirius straightened up and tightened his grip on his wand.

He heard a faint muttering; a smoky image of the phoenix floated briefly then dissolved into mist. He cast the same spell for confirmation. He saw the figure move in what might have been a nod.

When the figure stepped close enough for him to make out her features in the faint moonlight, never in a million years would he have guessed her to be their spy.

"Sirius Black!" He noted the tone of surprise and felt a tiny bit of satisfaction in knowing that he wasn't the only one thrown off balance.

"I'm Dorcas Meadowes." The surprise vanished and in its place was a carefully bland expression.

She extended her hand, which he shook briefly. The firmness of her grip surprised him.

He studied her carefully, because he knew Dumbledore would inquire about that. She was wearing dress robes and from the gossip column of the Daily Prophet, he knew that Malfoy was throwing a party. She stank of expensive shag tobacco, alcohol and a few more things that were illegal, although he had to concede that she did not seem intoxicated, hallucinating or out of her wits.

Still, he couldn't help but feel suspicious. The memory of her efficiency with the _sangsurin_ worked against her.

She pointed behind her, in the direction where she came from.

"There's a Malfoy Party, a masquerade ball. It's a good way for the Voldemort supporters to have an alibi. Stay there for awhile, leave to meet Voldemort, return to have a good time."

He raised an eyebrow. "Were you?" He couldn't leave the suspicion out of his voice.

"What?"

"Having a good time."

"I'm not here for you to question me." Her voice was surprisingly light, almost conversational, contradictory to her words. "Doubt me and that's your problem. And frankly, I have little time and patience for this."

Sirius gritted his teeth. "Fine."

She gave him a look that made him feel like a belligerent child who was complaining about a spanking. "_Anyway_. Voldemort is organizing his supporters and this is beyond the usual rally or muggle baiting. He has officially named them as if preparing his army."

The witch in front of him gave an involuntary shiver; then the brief show of emotion was gone. Sirius had never seen anyone quite so guarded with his or her emotions, not even Remus, and it left him disturbed. It was as if she couldn't find it in her to be human.

Dorcas continued. "If a whiff of suspicion touches Malfoy or any of the others, there are over fifty people who could attest that they were at the party."

He raised an eyebrow. "They didn't notice the period of absence?"

"Too stoned."

He tried not to snort.

He saw a faint flicker of movement as Dorcas reached for something in her robes. Instinctively, he trained his wand on her. He noted the flash of annoyance cross her face, then it resumed its bland facade.

"Relax." She said dryly and waited for him to lower his wand before she showed him what she retrieved.

On her palm was a small glass orb filled with a strange light.

"Tell Professor Dumbledore that it can only be viewed once."

Sirius palmed the glass ball and slipped it into a pocket.

"Break the Keepsake Glass, and the record is gone." Even if the warning was given lightly- as if mentioned as an afterthought- he was offended.

"I'm not a clumsy oaf."

"I never said you were."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither wanting to break eye contact. It was a battle of wills and _hell _if he will let this Voldemort-supporter-in-training win.

It's so easy for her to turn double agent.

Finally, Dorcas looked away first.

_Good,_ Sirius thought. _Let her know that we are wary._

He made sure she was far, far away, before he turned his back and left.

* * *

**AN: **for those who placed this in their favorites, thank you.  
**Sanny Sunshine: **Thank you.  
**aztecgold882:** Thank you for the review. I'd love to write more about the Black familyand hopefully it would go into the future chapters.  
**je suis une pizza:** Thank you for the review and for mentioning my tenses.I _should_ take editing this a little more seriously.Finally read HBP andwas a bit disappointed but I liked it better than OotP mostly because jkr finally went beyond her comfort zone with this one. I kind of expected the death and wasn't as blindsided by it as I was with Sirius's, but I can see that it was a difficult book for jkr to write. She chose to emphasize love as its central theme and that is quite difficult to do without becoming smarmy. Even Harry and Ginny was expected. The RLNT ship was the most surprising development. I ship them in fanfic but i honestly didn't expect them to be canon. Makes me think that jkr reads fanfic. 


	10. Chapter Nine

**AN1:** deleted and posted it again to edit a number of gaffes.

* * *

Disclaimer: This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
_"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended. 

**Chapter Nine**

Sirius hefted his rucksack a little higher up his shoulder and walked towards the alleyway behind where he lived. The street fronting the mismatched set of dingy townhouses were busy with muggle motorcars and a few street urchins but the alleyway behind it was deserted. Most of the residents of the other houses were off at work, and only the part timers and the too-young-for-school children would be in their houses. The lot of them were probably watching something on that telly-_something_ box that shows pictures.

He really should ask Lily again for its name.

Despite his familiarity with his neighbors' routines, he still glanced around him before taking out his wand and undoing the wards and charms he protected his motorcycle with.

His place was in a muggle part of London inspired by a brainteaser Bella had posed to the family on a reunion dinner years ago.

_How does a wizard hide in England?_

Each of them had given an answer and Bella had shot down every suggestion with a set of spells that were theoretically sound and could have found a wizard hiding anywhere in England and quite possibly anywhere in the globe.

Bella was a year out of Hogwarts at the time, and as young as he was then, it frightened Sirius to think about who she had been hunting down or much worse, under whose orders was she conducting the manhunt.

_The answer was simple enough,_ Bella had bragged, _that even an idiot could have figured it out_. _Put the wizard in a muggle city and have him do no magic. We have spells to trace magic but not its absence._

She then went on to explain that given that particular situation, _the best way to weed out the said wizard is muggle torture, since said wizard would have to use his magic to help the muggles._

His mother and his aunt had been exceptionally pleased with the suggestions, which prompted Regulus and Narcissa to regale them with anti- muggle-born and anti-mudblood propaganda. Bella was on fire that reunion dinner and had waxed poetic on Voldemort and his ideals. She had been the life of that particular Black party which had left him and Andromeda to be the focus of the family's stinging ridicule.

Yet that memory with that piece of non-advice had prompted his selection of the smallish townhouse. It was as safe as it could get, with the wards that he had set around it; and was definitely safer than any house in Diagon Alley or a Wizarding community. It gave him some small pleasure that he was thumbing his nose at Bella this way.

He wheeled his motorcycle out of the alley and into the street before gunning the engine to life. Dumbledore had sent a message to meet him and an address that was in London.

He weaved effortlessly through the midday traffic, cursing halfheartedly at the black cabbie that cut in front of him. He wanted to get to his destination as quickly as possible, to avoid getting drenched. He could have easily cast an impervious charm, but it was impossible to do so while maneuvering the hulk of shiny metal he was riding and as dexterous as his hands were, even he had his limits.

The sky was a menacing sort of gray, as if it were just on the brink of rain. It was much like the current state of affairs, one more drop of moisture in the nearly saturated cloud and it would pour, one slight push and they would be plunged into war. They were tottering on the edge, just waiting for Voldemort to make a move. That word again_-waiting_. But for this, he was willing to wait, to delay indefinitely what feels like inevitable bloodshed.

The Ministry, according to Peter's intelligence, was half wary with the actions of Voldemort's supporters but was completely unwilling to move until they do something drastically against the law. Personally, he thought too many government officials actually agreed with the pureblood supremacy idea to create and enforce laws to stop this madness. The fact that the supporters have been doing these for three or four years now, and have been talking about dissension- if Bella was an indication- far longer than that, didn't bother the Ministry. He wanted to knock the heads of these Ministry officials together and point out that three or four years were more than enough time to gather momentum, resources and followers to prepare for some of the more drastic changes Voldemort's supporters have been propounding on.

Dumbledore, being incredibly foresighted, had been preparing for this upcoming war by sending trusted friends and former students on tasks that gave them an idea of Voldemort's next move. And war was going to break any day now- _that is if their spy was to be believed._

It's not that he didn't believe that war was upon them. It's just that _he didn't believe her._ He was repeatedly bothered by the memory of her deftness with the _sangsurin_, the coldness in her voice in the shop and the noxious smell of Lucius' party on her. He felt they were placing too much trust on only one source of information and that source was in such an easy position to turn traitor.

Yesterday, Sirius delivered the glass orb to Dumbledore yesterday, together with Meadowes's instructions that it can only be viewed once. Then, he shared his opinions on her trustworthiness.

Dumbledore explained, that since trust was something earned, and it cannot be forced on him in an instant, Sirius would have to deal with his feelings in a professional manner. In the mean time, he would have to respect that both of them were working against the principles that Voldemort was purporting.

8888

The address that Dumbledore gave him turned out to be a small basement flat. Anti-apparition wards were set around the place, the note Sirius got from Dumbledore said.

A black, bald wizard with a gold hoop earring on one ear stood by the door, arms crossed on his chest. He leveled Sirius with a menacing stare. "State your name." He said slowly.

"Sirius Black."

The man waved his wand over Sirius, muttered a few spells while his wand gave a steady blue light. Finally satisfied, he let Sirius through.

The flat was composed of a kitchenette connected to the living room and a broom closet of a bedroom, and located a few blocks away from Diagon Alley. The dingy space was filled to the capacity, with various wizards and witches in various states of apprehension.

James, Lily, Peter and Remus were already there when Sirius arrived and he nodded his greeting instead of shouting it since the room was eerily hushed.

Peter and James were sitting on a dusty green couch in the middle of the room while Lily was balancing quite gracefully on one of its arms. Their heads were a mix of red, black and blond and were having a heated discussion.

He found Remus, who was leaning against one of the walls and looking peaky and Sirius remembered that it was a week to the full moon. Sirius headed for that end of the room and slumped himself against the wall next to Remus.

"Moony." Sirius said still looking straight into the room.

"Padfoot." Remus greeted without turning.

Sirius faced him and waggled his eyebrows. "I heard you had a little wild time in town a few nights ago."

Remus finally pushed himself off the wall and turned to him with an eyebrow raised in question. "And your point is?"

Sirius smile deflated; he was surprised for a moment. He did not expect Remus to get angry, annoyed, yes, but not angry. It was quite uncharacteristic of Remus. He felt his own anger well up inside him due to Remus' misplaced ire. "I was certainly surprised when your father did not know where you went and that you needed to_ deliberately lie to do so!"_

People were starting to look in their direction but Sirius did not seem to notice.

_"Sirius!_" Remus hissed and motioned to Sirius to keep his volume down. "I never ask you to go into detail all the places you go to and all the escapades you engage in. Although you may volunteer such information freely, that does not mean that I have to do so as well. You are not my keeper, Sirius. And I am certainly old enough to make these decisions."

_Bloody hell._ "Of course you're right." Sirius said and stomped the other side of the room. He felt the heat on his face and spent some minutes trying to breath through his anger. The people around the room were starting to lose interest in what happened and returned to their conversations.

He spent a few minutes tapping his foot on the ground and ignoring the questioning looks Peter and James threw his way. Finally, unable to have to go through the meeting with the argument hanging over them, he started to make his way towards Remus only to stop when a stately looking witch hugging a shawl tightly around her engaged Remus in a conversation.

He slumped himself again against the wall and studied the rest of the room.

Sirius caught the black haired witch with ragged patches of pink on her cheeks and wearing a Healer's smock giving him shy glances while talking to the Alice Longbottom, Lily's friend from Auror training.

Benjy Fenwick, a Gryffindor Sirius and James used to play Quidditch with, stood over the two women's shoulders. He noticed where the pink-cheeked witch was looking, and when he met Sirius' eyes, greeted him with a nod.

A dodgy fellow wearing a voluminous cloak was sitting in a lone chair by the corner; his eyes were moving shiftily on anyone wearing Auror robes and his hands were unconsciously tapping pockets.

A frumpy woman with graying curls was standing next to the dodgy fellow and was whispering what seemed like a heated, one sided discussion.

Two red haired men stood on opposite ends of the room, one by the door, while the other peered out of the tiny glass paned space that passed for windows.

Sirius recognized the short wizard, wearing lurid purple clothes complete with matching top hat, who was standing by the fireplace as Dedalus Diggle, but didn't know who his silver-haired companion was.

A youngish witch wearing muggle clothes under a translucent raincoat appeared through the door followed by a square jawed wizard with thick, straw colored hair. The woman took off her coat revealing twinkling, blue eyes and bouncing light brown curls under the hood.

A few minutes later, an extremely tall and broad man with graying hair entered the room and lazily waved his wand, drying both his clothes and his glasses. The wrinkles around his eyes and on his hands attested to the age that his spry movements seemed to deny.

The low undertones permeating the room were broken by the entry of Frank Longbottom a few seconds later.

"Edgar's the last. That should be everyone on Dumbledore's list." He said cheerily.

His greeting was punctuated by the entry of Dumbledore, himself, in robes of violet with twinkling stars. Fawkes settled comfortably on his shoulders. He was followed by very scarred wizard Sirius recognized as Moody, Lily's boss.

"I am glad that you all could come." Dumbledore's voice pierced the unnatural silence that crept up in the cramped space. "But first things first. I believe that introductions are in order."

They each spoke up in turn, the tension evident in the terse way they said their names.

"Aberforth, my brother, Hagrid and Minerva should be here with us, but Hogwarts is currently in Minerva's care." Dumbledore peered at them from the top of his glasses. "Everybody here in this room has answered the call of the light. Each one has recognized the imminent threat in our society and has come forward in his or her own way to offer their services."

"Here, here," said the Prewett brothers.

"Voldemort, as a number of us already suspected, has been gaining momentum in his belief in a pureblooded Wizarding race and will not be satisfied with the petty crimes that he and his followers have been instigating for the past years. It is only a matter of time."

Dumbledore let out a long breath, and for a moment, the wizard that they all believed in looked tired. "Yesterday, I have been informed that Voldemort has already put his plan in motion."

Dumbledore reached into his robes and brought out a small pensieve, which he enlarged with a wave of his hands. Touching the tip of his wand to his temple, he withdrew a gossamer thread, which he deposited in the stone basin. He watched the silvery surface in the pensieve, his expression thoughtful for a moment. Then, he touched the tip of his wand to the surface.

A hazy image rose from its depths, the various people in dark cloaks looking miniaturized. The center of the scene was tinted with a pale color, while edges of the memory was black and white, the color having bled from it.

The scene played in front of them: an ominous gathering of black cloaked, white masked figures standing in the greenish glow of a dim fire, the revelation of Voldemort's face, the speech of Lord Voldemort and the subsequent naming of his followers as Death Eaters, then _Crucio_ being shouted and the agonized screams of the prostate Death Eater.

There were a few sharp inhalations and whimpering at the brutality of the curse. There were some hushed questions about the spell.

"The Cruciatus Curse." Elphias Doge's wheezy voice came from the back of the room.

Sirius could not take his sight away from the scene. He had first heard of the old Unforgivable curse during his third year Defense classes and had heard of it repeatedly in snatches of conversations between Bellatrix, Regulus and Narcissa during summer breaks in Grimmauld place.

The scene continued with Voldemort commanding his pet serpent in Parseltongue and finished with Voldemort's final words that his Death Eaters will be summoned later to prove themselves.

The scene slowly revolved in space, sinking back into the depths of the pensieve. Dumbledore returned the memory to his temple, shrunk the pensieve and slipped it into his robes.

"As we can see, Lord Voldemort has chosen this moment to attack because he has acquired new powers and has transformed himself from being human into something more. We do not know what spells and rituals he went through. However, he has completely let go of his old self and is no longer the boy that was once Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"How was this scene transmitted?" The stately witch with the shawl, who identified herself earlier as Emmeline Vance, asked the question on everybody's mind. "It doesn't look like a memory."

Again, Sirius felt Dumbledore's piercing gaze on him. "It is a memory of a record of a memory. Our spy made a record of her memory of the event. And since such records can only be viewed once, what you saw is my memory of that record."

"How do we know this source can be trusted?" A voice from the back growled. The question came from Moody. "If _this source_ is giving us this information what's keeping him from giving out our information.

A murmur of ascent rose around the room.

"_She_ has not given me any reason to doubt her loyalty, is risking her life and has given up much to acquire this information. She is one of our own, whose precarious position prevents her from being here with us." Dumbledore said quietly, looked at each of their faces, until the murmurs died down. Then when Dumbledore met his eyes, Sirius felt as if the headmaster had looked at him for an infinitesimally longer period than the rest. He dropped his eyes.

"There is a need for us to present an organized front. Voldemort has called his followers Death Eaters. And so we must also give ourselves a name, under which we shall present a united stand against his tyranny. Because we shall defend life, the phoenix is a fitting symbol for us."

"The Order of the Phoenix then, Albus?" Edgar Bones, the exceptionally tall and spry elderly wizard asked.

Dumbledore gave a brief nod. "During the time of the last war, a group of wizards and witches fought Grindewald under a banner- The Order of the Phoenix."

"How will we know when to meet again? It seems to me that we cannot keep contacting each other using owls as such can be intercepted." Marlene McKinnon asked.

"Physical appearances can be assumed, altered and imitated, but certain spells are unique to the caster." Dumbledore explained.

"Like the Patronus charm?" James asked.

"Exactly, James. We could ascertain the identity of the person by sending our Patronus. A simple locating spell could be used to determine where the spell was cast." Dumbledore said by way of explanation.

Dumbledore had each of them cast the Patronus charm and asked them to be acquainted with their appearances.

After a while, Dumbledore pulled out a pocket watch with twelve hands from his robes, studied it for a moment, then gave it a satisfied click close. "It seems, my dear Order members, as much as I wish to stay here further, there are things that have to be done." And with that, Dumbledore and Fawkes were gone with a flash.

The room erupted in a flurry of conversation over the import of what was happening. A few silver images, the remainder of the Patronus, lingered around their casters and bathed the room in an ethereal light. There were a few practices of spell casting, then the meeting slowly dissolved as its members trickled out of the meeting place in twos and threes.

* * *

Later that week, Dumbledore called Sirius and James to meet him in Hogwarts, where he discussed his plans of setting up safe houses for victims of the war. Considering that nothing has happened, yet, the task lent a dire feeling about impending events. Dumbledore was certain that there would be deaths soon and the victims' families would need protection, and even if they wished otherwise, the two young men meeting with him, silently agreed with the macabre announcement.

When Voldemort would make his first offensive strike, the Ministry would certainly begin setting up the safehouses, but by the time they have made arrangements for these places, too many lives would have been wasted. Also, based on Peter's reports on the Ministry, it was likely that Voldemort has his spies there, too and leakage of the locations was a very real threat.

After going over their plans, Dumbledore handed the two men a map that would lead them to a series of underground tunnels in Ireland, which they planned to transform into the first of these safe places.

They had spent the first hour placing wards, barriers and concealment charms on the entrance located at the foot of a small barrow. James had placed most of the charms while Sirius did the countermeasures, throwing spells at the entrance, until he was satisfied that it was as safe as they could make it.

"That should be it." Sirius threw a last revealing spell at the entrance, which remained hidden. The hole that served as an entrance now matched the rest of the stony face of the small hill.

James waved his wand. The disguising charm dissolved, leaving a gaping hole in front of them.

"Now for the hard part." James said and bowed deeply in front of Sirius, motioning him to enter. "Ladies first, Mr. Black."

Sirius gave him a smirk before proceeding inside.

It was one long tunnel with many dead-end off shoots on either side that they could fill with beds. They tapped their wands around the wooden and stone pillars holding the series of tunnels up and repaired and reinforced the crumbling ones with magic. It needed work to look hospitable, but all in all, it was structurally safe.

"You know, we could use this, when Remus transforms." James said thoughtfully.

Sirius nodded not trusting himself to speak. The argument with Remus was still fresh on his mind.

By the night of the full moon, the four Marauders met by the tunnels. James cast the spell while Peter looked on impressed as the clever disguising charm vanished and revealed the entrance. The two hurried on inside, leaving an uncomfortable Sirius rocking on his heels and a hesitant Remus. Finally, the latter spoke.

"Padfoot, look, I'm sorry about that outburst. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I was defensive, what I was doing... that was for Dumbledore."

Sirius studied Remus for a bit. Because of his ability to keep a bland expression, Remus could lie his way out of any situation, so it's a good thing that the man was scrupulous and rarely did so. But having dormed with the person for seven years kept Sirius attuned to these things, and he knew that his friend was keeping something from them. Yet, he let it slide. For the moment.

_This is Remus, for Merlin's sake._

"Yeah, well we better get you in here before moonrise." Sirius said quickly, hiding his hesitation, and tilted his head towards the hole from where they could hear James' and Peter's rambunctious voices echoing out. Remus gave him a grateful look and slipped inside. Sirius followed, if a bit uncomfortably.

By moonrise, the wolf emerged and the remainder of the pack transformed, and all of the arguments were forgotten, traded off for the simpler joys of the night and freedom.

* * *

AN2: 

The Order of the Phoenix- in order of their appearance- Shacklebolt guarding the door, Peter, James, Lily, Remus, Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones in Healer's smock talking to Alice Longbottom and Benjy Fenwick, Dodgy wizard Mundungus Fletcher, Arabella Figg whispering heatedly, two redheads standing guard are Gideon and Fabian Prewett (Molly's brothers hence the hair), Dedalus Diggle in purple robes (like what he was wearing in PS) talking to silver haired Elphias Doge, Marlene Mckinnon is the blue eyed witch with bouncy brown curls (assumed since there's no description in canon), square jawed, straw colored haired Sturgis Podmore enters with her, tall, broad spry elderly man with graying hair is Edgar Bones (appearance again assumed), Frank Longbottom enters, Moody, and Dumbledore.

The other ones that aren't here but mentioned in OotP will appear later in this story.

For everybody who read this or added this to their favorites, thank you for taking the time. I do hope to hear from the silent readers sometime. Please R&R!

**Reviewer responses:**

**aztecgold882: **thanks for the constructive review. I didn't realize how bad it was until I read it again. So many hanging sentences.

**Blondie1369:** -g- Thanks for placing this on your favorites! I think as of what we know of canon, R.A.B. can plausibly be Regulus but jkr likes to be unexpected and could very likely spring a new character on us by the 7th book. Just the sheer number of new characters in book 5 shows that.

**je suis une pizza:** What you said made me remember a thought I had when I first read book 5. OotP gave me the impression that jkr has a ghostwriter. I guess book 6 wasn't much of a surprise anymore since it has the same "feel?" as book 5. But the wonder evoked by the first 4 books seems gone. I liked 6 better because of the amount of what's happening that the readers know about. Five felt as if Harry was dealing with Umbrige who was merely annoying, more than a really scary Voldemort. Considering the frightening mood in the ending of book 4, 5 felt almost anti climactic in a way. In 5, it was as if jkr had only those last few chapters in the DOM working for her and needed a whole bunch of fillers. But yup, I do miss the trio working together. So many times, its Harry and Hermione or Harry and Ron but rarely the three of them.

Hehehe! I'm writing fanfic yet this makes me seem like I don't even like the canon.

**readingaddict:** -g- Thanks for appearing again!


	11. Reminisces 2: Time Tells Me Who I Am

**Reminisces 2: Time Tells Me What I Am**

A faint light marked the Lupin's home and served like a homing beacon to the great, black dog. The monstrous canine trotted on full speed. He was very excited to see a member of his pack.

When he reached the front lawn of the modest home, the dog gave a joyous bark when the scent of the wolf assaulted his sense of smell. For a moment, the dog had been hesitant, because he thought his nighttime companion was gone, for he was aware that the wolf only appeared when the moon was completely round, and at this time, the moon was only halfway there.

But there was no mistaking the scent. The wolf was inside. It was going to be a joyful reunion.

In an instant, the dog was gone, and in his place stood a man with unkempt long hair and deep hollow eyes. The simplicity of the dog's joy at the reunion vanished and was replaced by the much more complicated feelings of this man.

There were times when Sirius thought that he was better off as Padfoot.

Remus had welcomed him immediately into the house, had given him a gruff embrace and had insisted that he make himself at home.

"Mi casa es su casa._" _Remus said and Sirius reveled in the feeling of nostalgia that it evoked. It was the same thing Remus' dad had told him, years ago when he had been a sixteen year old runaway who survived off the kindness of his friends. _His brothers._ He may have lived off James' hospitality but once in a while, he stayed at the Lupin's.

The Lupin house hasn't changed much from the last time Sirius stayed there. The house had been and still was simple, with its spartan furnishings, but it had all the requirements to be called a home- a family in the most heartwarming definition of the term. In his youth, he didn't vacation long in the Lupin household, having spent most of the time at Godric's Hollow, yet, Sirius had quite fond memories of Mr. and Mrs. Lupin with their endless teasing and doting on their only son. He had learned early on that Remus' lack of material wealth was because the Lupins had spent a sizable amount on trying to find a cure for lycanthropy. He understood the sentiment; he would have given up a sizable amount of his own fortune to find a cure for the hereditary Black cruel streak. But he also understood the sensitivity of his friend regarding his financial state, so he treasured every little thing that the Lupins had done to make his stay at sixteen comfortable.

Remus insisted that Sirius take a bath while he fixed a meal. Sirius began to decline, not wanting to impose, but his stomach grumbled loudly, making the discussion a moot point. He started another one and insisted that Remus allow him to prepare the meal, then changed his mind. His current state of filthiness was probably a bigger imposition anyway.

After the civilizing effects were done, the two friends found themselves sitting around the kitchen table, Sirius with a plate of reheated stew and Remus with his cup of tea.

They had exchanged a few owls after Sirius' amazing escape from Hogwarts, so Sirius tried to be the perfect guest and picked up the conversation from there. He learned that Remus' parents passed away a months after the fall of Voldemort. He also learned that Remus was working as a researcher for a writer who published Defense books, and on his free time for Dumbledore.

"The pay isn't much, but at least it's work that I like."

Sirius wondered how much of the books contained Remus' insights and how much was the writer's. It wouldn't be the first time that Remus' couldn't take credit for his work because of his lycanthropy.

"You should be teaching, Remus." Sirius said and swallowed his final mouthful. "You're far better than that greasy haired git."

"Greasy haired git. Snape would like that, especially coming from you. By the by, have you looked into a mirror lately."

Sirius gave him a big grin and fingered his ragged hair. "It's awful isn't it. But at least I can brag about a tan. I had one, the first half of last year."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Where _did_ you disappear to?"

Sirius closed his eyes and imagined the bright sun on his face for a moment. Spain, Italy, Greece, they had been lovely, all sun and warmth and doe-eyed beauties. They were a distraction, sure, but in the end, they weren't enough to erase Azkaban. Even under the sweltering sun, there were days when he woke up shivering and in pain.

He opened his eyes and for a moment, one could almost see traces of the exotic places reflected in his light eyes. "A few glamorous countries, where a daily prophet isn't a news rag but a madman lecturing by the town square."

"Said madman being you? I didn't know lecturing was part of your talents."

Sirius gave a soft laugh. He was glad that the hard times hasn't warped Remus' sense of humor.

Remus was the first to breech the topic of the Triwizard Tournament to which Sirius provided him with the rest of the details.

"It's always the children, first. Gregory Lowes and his family..." Sirius trailed off remembering the first death, years ago.

"Because they can't fight back. Because children give so much hope. It's about power," Remus said soberly. "In the end, the Death Eaters are all big bullies."

They drank tea, lost in their thoughts for awhile until Sirius couldn't put off the guilt that had kept him from getting enough sleep for the past year. He wanted to speak, to lay out in the open the things that should have been said. However, it seemed better this way, in a place of comfortable banter, where the way things left unsaid says a lot about who they are. To Sirius, what they had was both sturdy and fragile, enough to stand thirteen years of mistaken betrayal yet had to be treated delicately as if spun from cobwebs, sunlight and glass.

The night ended as it was, and Sirius convinced himself that there were stories better told in daylight.

Sirius woke up at the crack of dawn, having slept very lightly. Ever since Azkaban, sleep came in fits and starts. He padded as silently as possible out of his room, not wanting to wake Remus up; then he realized how completely unlike him that was. The last time he was here- sixteen and very very young- he was all about having fun. He had stormed through the house, had slept till noon and had kept Remus up all night.

He entered the kitchen wanting to help Remus with breakfast. It was the least he could do, being the border in this place. But Remus beat him in making breakfast and he already had a cup of tea and the Daily Prophet in hand.

"Breakfast's on the fire." Remus tilted his head slightly in that direction and watched while Sirius piled his plate. "I hope it's enough," he added wryly.

"Considering I didn't eat much in-" he stopped, chewing for a moment, and fished around for a less controversial word- "_there_, it's a little surprising my appetite has come back."

"Yes," Remus bit back a grin, "I can see it has."

"Old habits die hard." He joked, but he was careful with what he ate. He chewed slowly, savoring the meal but also doing it as a precaution against regurgitating it.

Before he left the country, after escaping the dementors' kiss in Hogwarts, he was able to take out some of his money. During his time abroad, he had lived a relatively well-fed existence, although, he learned the hard way, that the stomach needs to adjust to the kinds of food to take in. His first night outside of the country, he splurged on a delicious meal, and had spent the night retching it all up.

Again, it was a meal in companionable silence, and for a moment Sirius wondered if he really looked quite gaunt, that Remus insisted on feeding him so. He had been steadily gaining wait during his time out of England, but he knew he lost some of it when he came back to watch Harry for the Triwizard Tournament.

Once he finished his meal, he poured himself a cup of tea. After taking a sip, he was surprised to find that it was the same tea, the strong, full bodied kind, that Remus used to make years ago.

_Old habits do die hard._

Yet it wasn't all the same. It was a strange sensation, seeing someone so familiar, yet completely different but not being there through the gradual occurrence of the process. He observed his friend for a moment, taking in the changes. The light brown hair had premature flecks of gray and he had gained small lines around the eyes and mouth. But it wasn't only that, there was a- the closest word that he could come to was quietness- about Remus. When they were younger, there had always been a hesitancy with how Remus transacted with the world, as if he were afraid to allow himself to join the rest of them. It was still there, but it was as if he were more at peace with his circumstances.

Remus' eyes moved in a rhythmic left to right movement and suddenly, his brow furrowed.

"That bad?" Sirius mused.

Remus looked up at him then wordlessly handed him the paper.

Sirius scanned the page, trying to see what was bothering Remus, but found that it was mostly rubbish. He snorted periodically. "They're saying it's so peaceful we should all hold hands and dance around a maypole. There's bloody nothing, absolutely bloody nothing on him."

"And they're attacking Harry."

_"What!"_

Sirius scanned the newspaper again, then he found it, in an article in page three. It was a bad, biased comment about how _such a far fetched tale was worthy of Harry Potter._

"I wonder how he is feeling about all this. That is if he's even getting the Prophet, with his uncle and aunt and all. The Prophet's discrediting him."

"It isn't just that. They're discrediting Dumbledore as well."

Sirius let out an impressive string of expletives and was surprised at how naturally it came back to him. Remus gave him a wry grin in response.

8888

After breakfast, Remus begged off to work, leaving Sirius with free run of the house and whatever he wanted to do. Sirius spent an hour perusing Remus' defense books before his thoughts drifted back to the night in the Shrieking Shack. He was tired of avoiding the conversation that remained unsaid between them, the talk about the betrayal. The way things were going, they would skirt around the issue as if it never happened, as if they never suspected each other.

Sirius peered out the window, the bright sun on the jewel green grass working its magic on him. They could take a stroll outdoors while talking; Remus' house was situated at the edge of a forest and his nearest neighbor was quite far away.

Sirius found Remus halfway through dictating a note to this mysterious defense writer. He poked around Remus' desk while waiting for Remus to finish his letter, skimming the notations on bits of parchment. He tried to be inconspicuous but he supposed it wasn't part of his nature. He was reading Remus' thoughts on the effectiveness of the wolfsbane potion when he was interrupted by a rather loud clearing of throat.

"Is this what the writer wants you to research?" Sirius held up the roll of parchment.

Remus hesitated for a moment, "no that's personal research."

Sirius noted the discomfort and let it go, but made a mental note to ask about it again. He was familiar with all of Remus' weakness, including the fact that it was easier to get information out of the man when he was distracted.

Instead, Sirius invited him for the walk that was his original intention when he started badgering him. Remus gave him a skeptical look, which turned into a grin. "Couldn't even leave you for a few hours alone without adult supervision."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Well, you know me. I've got to be where the action is."

Remus bit back a grin. "I've got a better idea."

That's why, ten minutes later, the two friends were seated at the kitchen table with a box full of photographs and Gryffindor memorabilia scattered between them. Remus was flipping through the photographs while Sirius was looking over Remus' knickknacks.

He pinned Remus' old prefect badge to his robes and grinned. "So this is what it feels like to be a prefect. Not very different."

"The point wasn't the badge," Remus replied trying to hide a smile then added dryly. "It was access to the bathroom."

Sirius shrugged. "You gave us the password."

"Which I infinitely regret. I should have held out."

"But imagine all that fun we'd miss," Sirius joked, "like that time we locked Lily in while James was taking a bath."

Remus had a full blown smile now. "_We_, Padfoot?"

"Okay, that was just me," Sirius conceded, "but the look on James' face..."

Another memory came to him and when he spoke it was with bathos, "You know, I remember Cassie saying that the prefect's bathroom made it worth it."

Remus gave a small cough, interrupting Sirius reverie. Sirius tried to control his emotions. He knew it wasn't healthy to be over sentimental and he'd been prone to it of late. And if Remus' expression was any indication, he also agreed that it can't be good for Sirius.

"Look at this." Remus held a picture of James and Lily by the lake up to Sirius. "You can even see the snitch flying in the background."

Sirius forced himself to look at the picture, then broke into a big grin when he saw it. "Took her word back. Didn't date the Giant Squid after all."

"Lily threatened to hex him if he didn't return that snitch."

"Lily threatened to hex James every other day." Sirius said with a snort of laughter. "Prongs had to fall in love with a mad woman."

Remus had a small smile. "She was good for him."

"She was good for all of us."

The next picture was of James holding up a trophy for the Quidditch cup. Flanking him on both sides were a slightly smiling Remus, a Lily who planted kisses on the Quidditch hero, a not so thin Sirius laughing manically and an adoring Peter. Sirius sobered a little at the image of Pettigrew, and Remus must have noticed since he interrupted his thoughts again.

"I remember the first time I saw Harry fly, Sirius."

"He moves a lot like James, doesn't he."

"But he isn't James," Remus said carefully.

"I know that." Sirius said softly.

"Do you?"

Sirius gave him a hardened look.

Abruptly, Remus started packing the things. A questioning look formed on Sirius' face although he had an idea as to why Remus was doing that. Remus apologized before explaining. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, Padfoot."

Sirius tried to control his emotions. He had been brooding too much lately, and he wondered if Remus had a point. The backhanded accusation of excessive sentimentality hit him hard, but it was different between the two of them. His life was in the past, while Remus...

_…while Remus loved and lost these people too and he wasn't wallowing in self-pity because of it._

He was being unfair to Remus. He was still deeply bitter because of Azkaban but he had no right to take it out on Remus or to judge his friend's level of suffering. Mustering some courage, he motioned for Remus to stop and gave him a reassuring grin. But the air had changed around them, and he couldn't but help feel responsible.

Trying to right it, he picked up another picture. It was one of Remus with Hestia Jones.

"Healer's smocks? Were you leading some secret life we had no idea about?" Even as he said it, Sirius saw the irony of the words. He lost twelve years in Azkaban; Remus could have had a hundred different lives during that time.

Remus took the photo Sirius was holding and studied it for a bit. "This was during the war." He said simply. "Did some work at St. Mungo's. I counseled some of the newly bitten werewolves."

It all made sense. "The werewolf bars. That's why you were going." Sirius whispered. Remus looked at him sharply. "I knew. I saw you."

"You were trailing me."

Sirius didn't bother to deny the accusation, but he saw the hurt that flicked briefly in Remus' face before it returned to its bland expression. He felt a strange squeezing sensation in his chest. That was the reason that figured dominantly in his and James' logic when they started doubting Remus.

Remus stared at the picture for some time, then relegated it back into the box. "I was young and inordinately full of hope. I thought I could save the world." Remus shrugged. "Or at least the werewolves."

"What matters is that we tried." Sirius tried to sound convincing. "I mean, if we can't try to save the world, what can we save?"

"Only ourselves, Padfoot. Then everything will follow."

Suddenly, Sirius was tired of treading on eggshells. Even if Remus' pleasantness couldn't be simply due to his polite character, the thought of a renewed friendship between them strengthened Sirius' will to continue with the disclosure that had occupied his thoughts ever since the incident at the Shrieking Shack. So he threw caution and a guest's best behavior to the wind and went directly to the point.

"I'm sorry Remus. _We- I_ shouldn't have suspected you."

Remus' eyebrows shot up. Sirius watched as his friend placed the pictures slowly and very deliberately in the box and the turn to him, his expression unreadable.

"Remus I wanted to tell you-"

"Forget it, Sirius. It is behind us now. Nothing good could come up from talking about it. There is no need for explanations."

"There is no need, but _I want_ to tell you. You deserve to know." A heavy feeling started in the center of his chest. Sirius took a few deep breaths trying to dispel the discomfort, but the weight remained. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for what he had to say.

"We thought it was you because we never believed that Peter had the brains or the courage to join Voldemort. I never realized that his joining was an act of cowardice until after. And you were spending a lot of time away from us. You were going to those places... Back then, I didn't understand why."

Remus made a sound, as if to interrupt him but Sirius raised a hand to stop him.

"Remus, you were spending a lot of time away from us, and at that time it seemed suspicious. You were never one to believe in letting yourself go to the wolf. But it was _our_ fault. Only now when I think about it did I realize that we isolated you from another part of yourself. Sure we transformed with you, because we wanted you to be safe, but we didn't really _try to understand_ what it was like. The transformations and all. It hurts me to think that we pushed you away."

The clock hanging over the doorway ticked an insistent rhythm. The fire that Remus kept perpetually in the kitchen fireplace crackled loudly. Outside, the animals made their noises, since the house was so close to a forest.

But to Sirius, all of this was dulled, as if he were hearing it underwater. He was waiting for the final blow to fall, for Remus to say that their friendship was false because they didn't think him worthy of their trust.

And when Remus spoke, although his raspy voice was tight and tinged with tiredness, it was full of acceptance. "Thank you."

Sirius took the two words to heart, and found that he didn't need to transform into Padfoot to be able to get a little sleep that night.

* * *

AN:  
The chapter title is a line from the poem The Remains by Mark Strand. 

It's good to be back and working on this again. For those who waited, thanks.

**Je suis une pizza:** thank you for the wonderful review. As for Voldemort being so far along, I agree with you that Tom Riddle probably prepared for ages before appearing in his new form. But I've always thought that the moment he revealed himself, everything sort of cascaded pretty quickly. Of course this is all personal interpretation.

**Aztecgold882:** Thank you for reading this and AH. I'm trying to get my commas and grammar correct. Hehehe. :)


	12. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

**Moody to Harry in OotP:  
**_**"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally...**_

**Chapter Ten**

It was a week past the meeting with Voldemort and even if Dorcas had been invited, it seemed as if she wasn't to be trusted much since they hadn't contacted her since. None of her attempts to reach any of them seemed to work, and she even went as far as to send Byron to Regulus. Her owl was returned with a letter containing Regulus sentiments on how he misses her company and how he dreams about her and absolutely nothing on a Voldemort meeting. It was a frightening letter, none the less.

Aside from giving the second Keepsake Glass to Tutela together with an oral report on what happened during the Malfoy party, Dorcas felt like she hasn't been doing much Incolumitas work.

It was a quiet week and that day would have been a fairly ordinary, if Gustav had not announced that he wanted all of the prophesies double checked to weed out those that were impossible to come true. The false prophesies were to be taken note of and the list delivered to the Time Division to be analyzed.

Midmorning found Dorcas still in the 563 A.D. section of the shelves, deciphering the contents of an old, leather-bound ledger and comparing these with the labels on the Keepsake Glasses. For each false prophecy, she made a small check on the ledger while a quill and parchment she charmed floated beside her taking down the name that she marked.

By four, Dorcas had reached the 1015 section, and Gus was inordinately pleased with the progress that he let her off an hour early with a gruff mumble that was his thank you.

Dorcas exited the section until she reached the circular room with the rotating wall then entered the appropriate door for the Division.

When she reached the battle room, the wide room used by the Division for training cluttered with shelves, tables, pillows and racks with strange weapons pushed against its merciless stone walls, she found Benjy and Jillian lounging on pillows in the center of the room.

"You look bored out of your wits. Enjoying deep cover?" Teased Benjy. Although all of the members of the Incolumitas Division had cover jobs on paper, none of them actually did them unless they were on missions that placed them under close scrutiny, such as Dorcas' did.

"Honey." Jillian greeted then pointed to Dorcas' face then motioned to a spot on her own cheek. Dorcas wiped the ink stain with a wry smile then summoned a pillow using her second wand, strapped to her forearm.

"Show off!" Benjy said while Jillian clapped appreciatively.

"Why aren't you guys wading through the mud somewhere following black robed nasties?" Dorcas asked while arranging herself comfortably on the pillow. It seemed like Benjy was in a chatty mood and wasn't up for a practice session.

Benjy shrugged. "They've been awfully quiet for the past couple of days. Not that we were lazy or anything. I spent two days scouring Wales, wringing out informants. Nothing."

Jillian raised her head from her supporting hand to have a better look at Dorcas. "It's frightening really, should be a cause of alarm. But we can't seem to get anything on them. For the last week, I've tried every avenue possible, _but no,_ they've been involved in nothing but above board activities for a week. I've gone so far as to double check purchase records of Knockturn Alley shops. Again nothing. I mean we know how they work, they usually go really quiet before a big event, and I'm talking something bigger than the Alley Square rally, so that they don't raise the suspicions of the aurors." Jillian let out a sigh. "So basically it's been a good week for Fabian and me."

Benjy made a forlorn tsk tsk sound, "Aww, and that's such a bad thing."

Jillian moved what looked like a wandless hand and successfully whacked him in the head with a pillow. Benjy retaliated in kind, and soon a pillow fight erupted between the two.

But Dorcas' mind was on the letter that Regulus had sent, Sirius' reaction to her and how the brothers, so alike in ways could be on opposite sides of this war.

Regulus, she had known in Slytherin and found her initial assessment on how he's been copying Lucius Malfoy hasn't changed, but she also found the alteration from uncertain boy to pompous, aristocratic Death Eater disturbing.

Sirius was something else. She didn't know where to place him. She could tell that he distrusted her. No surprises there. She'd distrust herself if she were in his position. He probably didn't know anything about her to begin with, aside from that incident in the shop. What she did know was how she felt towards his attitude- annoyance and respect. It would have been easier to have a contact who trusted her farther than he can throw her but at the same time she respected, albeit grudgingly, his wariness.

They were strangers to each other. She had never been Sirius' friend in Hogwarts, because they ran in different circles; a casual friendship between an indifferent, if not partisan Slytherin and the most popular Gryffindor would have been unheard of in any time, and more so given the political climate during their stay. The only things she knew about him were what she saw in school and what passed through the grapevine at Hogwarts. And Sirius Black may have had a reputation as impulsive and even rash, but never once had he been called stupid. That fact offered her some feeling of security, considering any false move from him could lead to her death.

"A Knut for your thoughts?" Benjy plopped down beside her hardly winded. Jillian, with her flushed cheeks and feathers in her hair, was the obvious loser.

Dorcas raised both eyebrows. "Aren't they worth more than that?"

"Sure, but until next payday, that's all I can afford."

Dorcas floundered for a moment, then took the plunge. "Benj, you were Gryffindor, what do you think about Sirius Black?"

Benjy wrinkled his forehead. "Sirius Black? What do you mean? Because Jillian's _definitely the person to ask._"

It was Dorcas turn to be surprised. "Weren't you ahead of him?"

Jillian, whose flush from exertion had started to subside, turned red again. "But he was so gorgeous." Jillian protested. Benjy guffawed and avoided her swatting motions.

"Oh it was one date. He was charming and mischievous." Her eyes were twinkling. "It was Hogsmeade weekend-"

"No." Dorcas raised her hand to interrupt. Then deciding that she really didn't want to share her thoughts, she shook her head. "It's nothing."

The other occupants of the room exchanged knowing glances but didn't press. They've known Dorcas since she joined the Division- and Benjy longer than that- and they both were used to her refusal to share what was bothering her. Politics, work, even small talk, they exchanged easily, but Dorcas was pretty mum about personal matters.

Dorcas excused herself pretty quickly after that to drop by Tutela's office. The stern, turbaned witch seemed distracted and it was good that all Dorcas had to give was a quick report stating that there is nothing to report. Tutela pretty much waved her away, so Dorcas took the hint and headed home.

After the events of the past weeks, the sudden quiet from Voldemort's front unnerved her. Jill's sentiments on the matter, how the group was preparing for something bigger than anything, bigger even than the events in Alley Square, rattled in her mind. The transformation of Voldemort was a culmination of years of preparation and Dorcas can only wait uneasily for further revelation of his plans.

Relaxing was difficult with these thoughts, and the only supper she could keep down was something light which she matched with a goodly alcoholic wine, unearthed years ago from her parents' cellar. Since she rarely imbibed anything alcoholic on her own, she wondered what prompted it and concluded that perhaps it was the fact that she was single, nearly nineteen years old, home alone with no social life, no love life and engaged in a mission that could get her killed any day now.

The thought made her smile wryly. She was used to her brutally honest self-assessments that resembled insults.

_Perhaps it was simply good wine and she needed something to substitute for a good shag,_ an impertinent voice in her head shared. It sounded remarkably like Darcy.

She brought the bottle and her glass together with a good book and settled herself by the fire. The entire day was restful, almost restorative. The playful chat with Benjy and Jillian calmed the state of mild unease she acquired ever since she started this double life. She was used to keeping things to herself, but even she needed somebody to talk to, and she didn't feel comfortable enough confiding with Benjy and Jillian.

Darcy was the only person she told everything to. But talking to her or even owling her was out of the question.

And she couldn't even see her two best friends, if she wanted to keep up appearances. Although she couldn't tell them what was going on in her life, even mundane banter would be a comfort. Dumbledore had said that she would need to have a public parting of ways, a public denouncement, which she conformed with.

She stretched a bit on her couch and opened her book, skimming over the narration and the descriptions, focusing on the action and the dialogue. And maybe she should have asked Benjy and Jillian the question? Maybe she should have told them what was bothering her? And what was Jill thinking dating someone two years younger than her, even if he was handsome? Maybe she should...

A loud rapping sound made Dorcas jump waking her up effectively from her nap. The fire has burned low and her book has slipped from her lap, sometime during the night. She gazed at the clock on the fireplace lintel. It was well past midnight.

The person knocking on her door turned out to be Regulus in black robes.

He placed a kiss on the back of her hand and swept into her apartment, without so much as an invitation.

"Get changed."

He didn't need to explain into what.

* * *

The moon was a day past full and it bathed the quiet suburban neighborhood they apparated to in a cold, silver light that made visibility good even if all the streetlights were out.

"You've arrived." A silky voice greeted them from behind the white mask.

_Lucius Malfoy._

He stood in the stoop of a small but cheerful looking house, complete with flower beds on both sides of the front walk. The scent of azaleas enveloped the house.

"The first team has left." Lucius said leading them in.

The house opened into a drawing room, moonlight pouring in from a big window and highlighting four bodies in the room, transforming the macabre scene into one of unreality.

From the way they were positioned, Dorcas could tell that whoever killed them came from the back, through the doorway opposite the one they entered.

"We are supposed to check if any of the filthy muggle-lovers survived and to make sure that Rudolphus and Bellatrix didn't leave anything." Lucius explained.

Closest to them, hiding behind a wing chair was a woman with her arms protectively wrapped around a small girl who couldn't have been more than five. Lucius used his booted foot to tip the woman over.

Dorcas felt her breath catch in her lungs. For a moment, she had thought they were alive and had thought wildly if she could hex both Regulus and Lucius and help the mother and child.

Then she saw their eyes. Glassy. Like dolls.

The strange tableau of mother and child fell woodenly together, the grasp of the mother so strong that even Lucius vicious kicks could not separate them.

Dorcas clenched her hand tighter around her wand and fought against the anger and the helplessness in her. The combination of feelings paralyzed her; she was torn between cursing Lucius Malfoy and keening over the dead mother who loved her daughter so much.

"Avada Kedavra." Regulus whispered beside her. He was staring at the bodies, his eyes bright and looking like an uncertain fifteen year old again.

"It's too forgiving a spell for the likes of these two." Lucius gave the bodies another unnecessary kick, but even in death, the mother remained attached to her child. "The girl was rumored to have levitated while playing with the neighbors yesterday. Funny what little children will tell you in exchange for a few sweets."

They ventured forward to the remaining two bodies. One was laying supine on the floor, an expression of deep hatred frozen on his lined face. He was stocky and silver haired but minus the expression, Dorcas could see that his face was regal and that he aged gracefully.

Lucius spat on the body.

"Lowes allowed his blood to be tainted by marrying the muggle woman."

_Lowes._ The name brought to mind the image of a dark haired, dark eyed boy she went to school with. _He played seeker for Ravenclaw._ She found it strange that the only thing she could associate with him was that mundane memory.

She turned immediately to the other body.

The black hair was matted with blood.

She heard Regulus stir behind her. "Lowes. Is that-" Regulus swallowed repetitively for a moment- "_Gregory?_"

Of course Regulus would know him. Regulus was a beater and would have had played against him.

"Well go on." Lucius directed at her.

Dorcas turned the body over. Acid rose up from her stomach and she turned away from the sight, trying to regain her composure. There was no need to double check if he was dead.

Two angry slashes covered his face, one across his throat and a multitude overlaid his chest.

"They should have used a spell." Dorcas did not add: _it would have been more humane._

"Oh, but they did use a spell." Lucius eyes gleamed maniacally. "There are so many wonderful things the Dark Lord can teach us."

_Bastard._

"We need to see if Bella and Rodolphus left traces behind. Regulus, check the other rooms. Dorcas-"

She needed to inform the aurors of this.

"I'll check the perimeter." Dorcas volunteered quickly, then exited to the back of the house.

The yard was a walled in space lined with shrubs at the edges and an old rusty swing set at one end. Aside from the door she exited, and the small kitchen window, there was no way she could be seen from inside the house. The drawing room had a wide bay window but it was facing the front of the house, and if Lucius and Regulus focused their movements in that room, she'd be pretty much out of sight.

It was urgent that she delivers the message to Sirius. She quickly weighed her options.

If she sent the signal from here, there is a high risk of Sirius being seen.

If she disapparated to a safer location to contact Sirius, Malfoy and Regulus would hear the report that accompanied it.

She thought about it; then she ran.

She ran as fast as she could down the street, looking left and right at the different houses, their windows blurring with images of the forms of the Lowess. Lucius voice echoed in her head.

_Funny what little children will tell you in exchange for a few sweets._

_The mother on her back, the child cradled to her chest on top of her.  
__A look of pure hatred on a gently lined face.  
__Angry slashes._

She concentrated on studying the houses, simultaneously slipping off her mask to get a better view, until she found a yard filled with shady trees. Without even trying to catch her breath, she cast the Patronus spell. The bolt of silver shot haphazardly out of her wand then vanished into the darkness.

_Come on... come on..._

There was a loud _crack,_ followed by a disgruntled Sirius, slightly disoriented by Apparating.

She gripped his arm firmly and looked straight into his eyes, hoping to convey as much as possible. He raised his eyebrow in question but remained silent.

"There have been killings. The Lowes'. Eight houses down." She said frantically. She shook her head against the question forming on Sirius' lips. "Get the Aurors."

Sirius gave her an inscrutable look for a moment; then nodding resolutely, he disapparated.

She reached the garden with enough time to put on her mask just as Lucius and Regulus exited the house it from the back door. Sweat was trickling down the side of her face from her sprint and pooled in the recesses of her mask making her itch. She stifled the urge to take it off again; she couldn't have the other Death Eaters seeing she broke a sweat.

"The house is clear, we should be off to celebrate." Lucius gave her a smile.

Regulus was a little pale and given Lucius air of elation, Dorcas couldn't help wonder what Lucius asked him to do.

"We should initiate her." Lucius' smile got wider. "Regulus, would you like the honors?"

Panic rose within her at the sight of Lucius' smile, which, taken any way meant bad news. "Initiate? What do you mean?"

"The Dark Mark. It is a little spell exclusive to the Death Eaters, quite similar to a card. Regulus just learned it yesterday with very little prodding."

Regulus seemed to pick up at the compliment and he lost some of the wildness around his blue eyes. "It's simple enough." His voice the opposite of the nervous tone he used in the house. "The focus of the spell is the incantation, the wand is pointed upwards. The spell is Morsmordre."

Two pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. She raised her wand arm skywards, trying to keep it from shaking.

"Morsmordre." She whispered not able to bear shouting the word.

Greenish smoke emerged from the tip, similar to the signal she uses to contact Sirius, but instead of vanishing into vapor, this continued skywards. A tiny eruption followed and the smoke transformed into a burst of green stars arranging into the form of a skull with a snake emanating from its mouth.

It settled in the sky, above the house, a tiny constellation that heralded death.

* * *

**AN:**

I haven't said thanks to those who are reading this so far, to those who stuck with this despite my hiatus and to those who continue to review. It's true that writing in itself is its own reward but sometimes, without the readers, I tend to think, what's the point.

Hehehe! Now that I'm done with my little fishing expedition, I might as well come clean- please continue to R&R.

**aztecgold882:** Of course you weren't pedantic or anything! If it weren't for your reviews I wouldn't be as thorough with editing this. Besides, that's the point of the reviews, to give feedback on how to improve what we write.


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Eleven**

In a series of quick apparitions, Sirius went from the darkened garden, to James and Lily's flat in London where he ungraciously awakened the couple, to the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow where he gave his instructions to the portrait of Artemesia Potter. It was the fastest way to get a message to Dumbledore, since the Order signal cannot penetrate the magical barriers around Hogwarts and it is much swifter than going to Hogsmeade then trekking to the school.

In less than ten minutes, Dumbledore had taken a portkey to Godric's Hollow and had sent out messages to Moody and Frank Longbottom using Fawkes. Lily had reported to Moody as well.

Dumbledore had instructed Sirius and James to remain at Godric's Hollow, to give details to any Order member who reports.

So the two and James' parents were left minding the temporary headquarters and handling the tension the best way that they can.

James sat as calmly as possible sipping tea beside his parents.

Sirius paced.

Sirius envied even Artemesia, who was out of Godric's Hollow, delivering news and messages to the other portraits of the past headmasters.

Half an hour later, Dumbledore reappeared with a somber expression in his face. Without further comment he said, "The Lowes' are dead."

Sirius stopped pacing and turned slowly to face the headmaster.

Mrs. Potter wringed her husband's forearm while Mr. Potter raked his hands repetitively through his hair, a gesture uncannily similar to James'.

"Lowes. Gregory Lowes?" Asked James with disbelief.

Dumbledore only nodded.

"But Francis and his son were Purebloods. I don't understand?" Mrs. Potter said.

"That is the truth that we are trying to uncover. Francis and Gregory Lowes were not the only casualties tonight. Two females, a mother and a child-"

A streak of light interrupted Dumbledore's explanation and headed straight for Sirius. A silver owl materialized and flew in circles above Sirius' head before settling its wispy claws on his shoulders.

Sirius glanced towards Dumbledore before casting a locating spell. A bolt of silver encircled the Patronus for a few seconds before arranging itself into words- The Warlock's Wand.

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly and Sirius imitated the movement in acknowledgment. "Sirius, James, I need the two of you to round up Peter and Remus if he is up to it. Go to The Warlock's Wand."

"But Albus, surely Aurors are better trained for this," came Mrs. Potter's anxious words.

"Aurors cannot be alerted to do this because it would raise the suspicions of the Death Eaters as to how the whereabouts of their location was found." Then facing the two younger occupants of the room, he continued. "James, Sirius, I cannot force the two of you into actions outside of that which you wish to do."

Mrs. Potter's fears weren't lessened in any way. "Albus-"

Mr. Potter shook his head and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Jamie is old enough to make his own decisions, Felisha. And as much as he is our son, we can hardly impose our authority on Sirius."

Sirius met James' eyes and an unspoken understanding passed between the two of them. James turned to Dumbledore and gave a brief nod.

"We'll round up Remus and Peter," said James, "Mum, Dad, we'll be safe."

* * *

"You're a right dreadful sight." 

Based on her reflection, she was inclined to agree with the mirror. Her pupils were dilated, her face was pale and sweating and her hands were shaking.

There was a loud banging of fists on the locked door as the other patrons of the pub shouted that they needed to relieve themselves, and the mirror kept on going about her hair, her face and her clothes. She cast a muting charm on the door and a silencing charm on the rusty mirror with its gaudy stone encrusted rim.

She made two records of her memory of what happened in the Lowes' house, one for the Order and the other for the Division. Then raising her wand arm, she sent another Order signal.

Lucius and Regulus had insisted that they go to a pub, to make themselves as visible as possible thus minimizing suspicions, to create as suitable an alibi as they can, and of course to underhandedly celebrate the night's victory. Why they had chosen such a dump of a place, she couldn't ascertain and didn't even try to. All she had wanted was to go home and curl up by the fire, hoping that somehow warmth would make its way back into her body.

She looked at her reflection again and tried not to flinch. Her robes were the same Death Eater robes, only badly transfigured and the miniaturized Death Eater mask in her pocket seemed to weigh heavier than it really did. They were done using shoddy spell work and she needed to look presentable enough.

_Not like a Death Eater in disguise._

She sighed. Her self-control was waging war with her penchant for sarcasm and was losing miserably.

She dried the perspiration on her face, cast a few cheering charms on herself, and studied her transfigured robes critically. In the short time between Apparating in the alley behind The Warlock's Wand and entering the grimy pub, she had only managed to change the color of the flowing robes to dark green and cinch the waistline a bit. Sewing spells, along with some other household-y spells, had always been a weak point and her skill was passable at best.

Squinting at the image in the rusty mirror, she imagined what she wanted the robes to look like then passed her wand over her front in one smooth movement. The green had lightened itself and changed into a more appealing shade and the robes followed her figure. She looked to her side and was pleasantly surprised. She had even managed to add a slit up to above her knee.

_Imagine that._

Glancing one more time at her reflection she decided that she didn't look too pale or depressed anymore, but cast a couple more cheering charms, just in case.

* * *

The Warlock's Wand was dim, noisy and rowdy, not altogether unexpected for a pub, but its charms were nonexistent, and Sirius thought that the only reason the Death Eaters chose that particular pub was the virtue of it being teeming with people. It didn't matter that there was a better looking and more hygienic muggle pubs a few establishments down the road since Voldemort's supporters would prefer Wizarding trash over muggle elite.

The bar was located at one end of the room, tended by an exceptionally tall and brawny wizard wearing robes with sleeves cut off, revealing arms like ham hocks. Angry looking scars crisscrossed his arms, evidence of dangerous bar fights.

The tables that dotted the place looked old and scratched. Some of them titled precariously, casualties of rumbles and badly cast Reparo spells. The chairs matched the tables, only from the standpoint that they were as badly repaired. The floor was damp and sticky from spilled beer and Sirius was careful to avoid getting the hem of his robes trod upon.

For a moment Sirius felt he had stumbled back in time into another obligatory family gathering, this one being dinner with the Malfoys. Whether it was fraternal instinct or a deep sense of nostalgia, he spotted Regulus immediately, lounging in a padded booth with Lucius Malfoy to one side and a dark haired witch he had assumed was cousin Bella on the other. His brother was downing Firewhiskey like it was water and the movement brought back memories of their last decent conversation.

It had been a few days past Regulus' graduation from Hogwarts and Sirius had owled his brother saying he wanted to congratulate him by treating him out. Emboldened by the freedom of a completed education and a brother followed around by fun, Regulus had asked him if they could go to a more "adult" establishment. Sirius had crowed with masculine pride over his younger brother and had taken Regulus to a place that the Marauders had gone to when _they_ had graduated. Sirius had paid for the drinks and Regulus got completely smashed on Firewhiskey.

By some unspoken agreement, they did not talk about politics or sensitive family issues that night, and if family did figure in the conversation, it was to recall some amusing childhood memory.

Sirius missed the kid. He missed those sparse moments during the summer breaks when, out of sheer boredom of being stuck in Grimmauld Place, they would forget their ongoing rivalry and cook up some fun activity or another. It used to be Quidditch with highly dangerous- and exciting- twist to the rules or sneaking out to muggle London.

8888

Remus got a table for them, some discrete distance away while James placed their drink orders at the bar.

"You said your contact would be with some pureblood enthusiasts. Is that her?" Asked Peter, pointing at the witch who was facing away from them her long, black hair being the only thing visible from where they were seated. That was when he realized that they'd never seen his contact before. Sirius squinted through the smoke of his cigarette and was about to say that Peter was wrong, that the witch was Bella, then realized instantaneously that it wasn't.

He couldn't imagine how he could have been mistaken because aside from the color and length of her hair everything else was different- the width of her shoulders, the line of her back, the way she held her head.

"I didn't know your contact was Dorcas Meadowes." Remus mused.

"I need her to know that we're here." Sirius said and took a distracted puff while he pondered through all of his options.

"We could get a diversion going. You know, curse some of those blokes there," Peter pointed at a set of men over his shoulder, "blame that other group there..."

Sirius thought about it. "Maybe later when we'll need time to talk. First I need her to know that we're here."

"Send her a drink." James grinned, "just your style, mate."

Sirius smirked at him, but didn't dignify the suggestion with a reply.

Remus rubbed his chin. "Why don't you just go up there. Regulus _is_ your brother."

James raised his glass as if making a toast. "Moony, what would we do without you."

"Continue living depraved lives, I bet." said Remus dryly.

"Don't do anything_ depraved_ that I wouldn't do." James waggled his eyebrows.

Sirius blew a smoke ring at him. "That isn't much Prongs."

"Don't worry, we have your back," Peter declared with much bravado.

Sirius stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, a vague plan forming in his head, and prepared himself for the encounter. It was going to take some acting talent to make this look convincing since he had absolutely no idea how Dorcas was going to pass on the information to him. Most likely, they were going to play it by ear.

Lucius must have spotted his approach first, for he leaned over to Regulus and whispered something. Then both wizards reached for something in their robes and Sirius was willing to bet that it was something long, hard and necessary to do magic with.

Dorcas, on the other hand, had a disinterested expression on and for a moment he thought she did not see him. But when their eyes met, he could see that she was worried and more than a little suspicious of what he was planning.

Once Sirius reached their table, he inclined his head slightly and mustered a pleasantly surprised expression. "Reg," he greeted a little bit too warmly and resisted the urge to flinch.

"Sirius." Regulus returned tightly. Regulus' wand arm remained under the table, holding a wand pointed at him, no doubt, and Sirius could not help but think irreverently that if his brother was a little jumpy Padfoot might just get neutered accidentally.

"Black." Lucius greeted curtly.

He needed to get rid of Malfoy, if he wanted things to be a little easier for him and he cast around for ways to do so.

"Malfoy. Surely two brothers who haven't seen each other for some time, deserve a little privacy. There's a seat at the bar." Then Sirius punctuated his request by turning his back on Lucius, effectively dismissing him.

Lucius seemed angry enough to hex him, but stood up anyway and transferred to the bar. He jumped at the opportunity and sat himself down at the booth, next to Regulus.

"You arrogant prick." Regulus said tightly to him.

"Family trait, Regulus." Sirius sent his brother an overly bright smile. "So, who's your friend?"

The suspicion on his brother's face doubled then Regulus draped an arm around Dorcas, who shrank a little at the touch, as if avoiding the intimacy. Then just as quickly as the action came, there was a relaxing of her posture, necessitated Sirius supposed, by the ruse that they were pulling.

"This is Dorcas Meadowes."

_So Regulus was going to pretend that the incident in the shop didn't happen._

Sirius held out his hand for a shake. He saw Dorcas hesitate, censure in her hazel eyes. Then she reached out her hand to meet his. Once their hands met, he felt a small object being pressed into his palm. To hide the glass orb from Regulus, he clasped both of his hands around Dorcas' and gave it a brief caress.

Regulus' eyes narrowed at their clasped hands. He transferred his hand from her arm to her waist and tightened his grip.

"I'd appreciate it if you weren't so forward with_ my friend_, Sirius."

"Just showing her what she is missing."

Regulus was studying Dorcas, running his hand down her arm in what Sirius supposed was a comforting gesture. With Regulus looking awayfrom him,he mouthed _"Bar fight._"

Giving Dorcas a devil-may-care expression then praying desperately that she understood and was willing to play along, he dropped a kiss on her hand then released it. After her initial shock at the act, she narrowed her eyes, snatched her hand quickly from his and gave him a scathing look.

_She caught on, good girl._

"She looked like she enjoyed it." Sirius vaunted, "I see I haven't lost my touch."

"Why you-" Dorcas seethed- "How dare you!" -then wiped her hand on her robes (a bit too convincingly), disgusted with his display. "Just because every female with less than a whole brain and legs up to their necks chased you around, doesn't give you the right-" she sputtered.

Her performance was so convincing that if Sirius didn't spot her surreptitious glance at Regulus' expression, he would have thought it was real. Of course given his reputation at Hogwarts, he supposed that some of what she said was fueled to some extent by true ire.

"Shh, Cassie, it's all right." Regulus soothed. Then he faced Sirius again. "You heard her, Sirius," Regulus arm tightened around her waist and drew her closer to him. "The lady doesn't want you around."

"The lady," Sirius flashed her his most charming smile, "is just dying to- mmph."

Regulus fist connected with his face.

He wanted to shake his brother's hand for _finally_ doing something. Regulus can be quite a coward sometimes and he didn't know how much longer he could leer at Dorcas before Regulus finally acted. Although he had been expecting curses, not his brother's fist.

Both of them stood up, their wands pointed at each other. In their haste, the table toppled over with a loud crash; the conversation in the pub, ground to a complete halt.

Sirius' eyes darted around the room. He spotted Lucius already up from his perch by the bar, wand drawn as well. But his friends definitely have his back and they were all within helping distance with their wands out.

Dorcas, he saw, was standing behind Regulus, her small frame nearly hidden by his brother's bulk. She was tilting her head slightly in the direction of the back door.

"Boys." A booming voice from the bar shouted. "Take it out. Nobody fights inside."

Sirius snorted. If the cracks on the furniture and the type of patrons were anything to go by, he was willing to bet that fights in the pub were common occurrences.

_Time to get the show moving._

He gave Dorcas a big, roguish, stage wink. "So how about it, luv?"

Regulus shouted something he wasn't able to make out but was able to duck. A gust of wind grazed his back when the curse sailed by.

He gave a few well-placed curses, and saw Lucius Malfoy go down stiff as a board.

The rest of the Marauders got into the act, throwing hexes around as an invitation for everybody to join in the brawl. The bartender had his wand out and was hexing anybody who came close to claiming a free drink from the bar.

Somebody tugged on his arm and when he turned around, he saw a faint outline of somebody whose body blended with the background.

"Dissimulo." Dorcas' voice came from the faint outline.

He felt a faint trickling from his head down his spine and when he looked at one of his hands, it matched the back of the booth where it was resting.

"I need to talk to you." She said, tugging on his arm towards the back door.

8888

They stepped outside into a narrow walkway at the back of the pub, the cold night air hitting them full blast and the rancid smell of vomit, urine and other bodily fluids assaulting their noses. He thought he saw the faint outline in front of him shiver.

Something rapped his head lightly, and he felt the glamour charm being removed. A few seconds later, Dorcas appeared starting from the feet, going up her body.

Sirius peered into the sparkling glass of the window trying to discern how much time the guys could buy them. From James' confident posture, Remus' amused expression and Peter's fighting stance, he could tell that they'd probably get a reasonably long time. It reminded him of how they'd look back when the Marauders faced a group of nasty Slytherins and had bested them easily enough.

There were a few people in the walkway, all of them drunk. Some were in compromising positions. Some were retching violently. A small group stepped out of the pub and swayed out of time with the bawdy song they were attempting to sing.

Dorcas moved further away from the pub and towards the more shadowy end of the narrow alleyway; Sirius followed closely behind.

"I don't understand. The Loweses were purebloods." Sirius began, without preamble. He had dropped his voice to whisper. His eyes darted to the people in the alleyway.

"Lucius Malfoy said that Gregory and his father are-" she stopped, "were- purebloods but Mr. Lowes remarried a muggle woman. They had a daughter who was magical."

"A half blood." Sirius whispered. He saw Dorcas nod briefly. A flash of something passed over her face and was gone immediately, replaced by her perpetually bland expression.

The dark haired witch took a deep breath, "It seemed as if Death Eaters were asking around. Malfoy said that the neighboring children reported the little girl levitated during play, and that they got the information by offering the children candy."

Sirius drew in a hissing breath and muttered an expletive under his breath. "They targeted the child. They were making a statement by killing the entire family, but the real target was the child."

Dorcas nodded. "Gregory and his father were seen as traitors, to be punished. The mother was considered muggle, easy to cast a memory charm on. She was killed because she was seen as overstepping her place by marrying a wizard. But the little girl, she was what they feared the most. Malfoy, just a while ago in the pub, was calling her an abomination. She couldn't have been more than five."

An image of his brother standing over a little girl with a wand pointed on her face flashed in his head. Sirius wanted to ask her who did the killings but couldn't bring himself to phrase the question.

"They were dead when we got there," said Dorcas, her voice strained. "Malfoy said it was Rudolphus Lestrange and-" she looked up at him and hesitated for a moment- "Bellatrix Black."

There was no sense of disappointment there; he had long ceased to be affected by Bella's actions.

"Malfoy called them the first team." Dorcas continued. "We were the second team, sent there to make sure that Black and Lestrange did not leave anything behind to implicate them or anybody alive."

"But what if you, the second team were caught?"

"We could always say that we were simply in the area. Robes and masks are easy to transfigure. Evidence would be circumstantial. They couldn't implicate us."

Sirius ruminated on all of this. "I see. If they cast _Prior Incatato_ on your wands, they wouldn't get anything related to the murders."

"Right," Dorcas said.

With the exchange of information done, Sirius noted her discomfort and felt uncomfortable as well.

Dorcas was looking hastily over her shoulder at the back door of the pub. Then she scanned the drunken group in the corner. Her foot tapped ceaselessly and impatiently on the cobbled ground.

"Well…." She bit her lip.

The awkwardness of the situation bled in the atmosphere and shot down his famous Black self-confidence.

Then she met his eyes. "I'm sorry about that." She pointed to his left cheekbone, her tone and expression apologetic. "Your brother had a lot to drink but even for the lousy cover story, I shouldn't have egged him on."

"This is nothing." He shrugged and touched his cheek gingerly. It was just starting to smart, and he had really intended for Regulus to attack him.

The memory of Regulus' possessive arm around her came back to him and he felt compelled to apologize to her. "And, um, you, I'm, um, about how Regulus was, um." He gestured wildly, imitating Regulus' possessive posture. He saw dawning comprehension on her face.

She shook her head and sighed. "Part of the job. Your brother just had too many Firewhiskeys."

Annoyance bloomed in him at her explanation. He took offense that Regulus had been manhandling her when clearly she wasn't comfortable with it. Her small wince at the tightening of his brother's grip had not been imagined but what he didn't understand was why she took it upon herself to defend his brother. He was torn between loyalty to his brother and taking personal offense at his brother's boorish behavior. At the same time he could not fathom her defense of something that was obviously offensive to her and it irked him.

"Oh I think you're going to have to think of a more personal reason as to why he's been _groping you_." He replied. He gave her a long, lewd look, stopping at the appropriate body parts and felt a cruel satisfaction at the flush that colored her face accompanying the humiliation.

Sirius knew he should stop, but the words and the look were easy and satisfying to dispense of and certainly got a reaction from her.

Dorcas looked shocked then offended. "I certainly don't like the implications of what you're saying." She said tonelessly. "And he was _hardly_ groping me."

It was the first time he'd seen her lose the conversational tone and the bland expression.

He gave her a sarcastic laugh. "I'm a man, _Cassie_," he mocked, "I know what groping looks like."

She moved so fast that he didn't know what was happening, until he saw her hand waver a bit, then stop, a few inches from his face. She was breathing hard. In her hazel eyes, he saw her fighting for control over her temper. Then just as suddenly, her eyes lost their depth and her hand dropped back to her side. The bland expression was back on her face.

"Look, we're not here to talk about this." She said flatly.

She was right; this was hardly the time, place or situation for such a petty argument. Then there was that small nagging feeling that he was excessively dwelling on being annoyed over something quite trivial. He needed to control his temper.

"And you couldn't just accept my apology for my brother's actions."

"I don't understand you. What does that have to do with this!" Exhaling loudly, she said, "Black, right now I'm not in the mood to control my temper, and I'm about to lose it in five seconds-" her voice started increasing in volume- "and that might lead to an argument which means we could end up out here longer than necessary. It's cold here, these _damn_ robes are thin and the fumes from those drunkards over there are noxious. Oh, and not to mention that little obvious fact that if we get caught _everything goes to hell!_"

The alleyway grew silent. Random wizards and witches were looking in their direction.

"_Shut up!_" Sirius hissed. "_What were you thinking!_" He didn't get a reply.

She ignored him completely, turned from him and slipped back into the pub.

The wizards and witches gave little shrugs then returned to their entertainment.

* * *

A/N:  
Ffnet aren't allowing reviewer responses anymore, which makes me sad since I can't thank each and everyone of you personally. However, I am always grateful for the reviews, encouragements and suggestions and for continuing to read despite my lapses in updating. Good luck and much thanks to those who are reading despite exams and entrance essays and what have yous. In accordance with ffnet's new rules, I'm making this my last A/N of this sort and type. For those who have questions or wish responses, ffnet has added a feature where writers could reply through email. :) 


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Twelve**

Instead of walking gracefully through the door, the Marauders tumbled into Sirius' apartment. James was laughing at the ease with which he was able to filch three bottles of Ogden's Firewhiskey and Peter was looking extremely impressed. Sirius was extremely impressed as well, but tried to hide it with a detached air. Remus was laughing silently, his shoulders shaking; probably too tired to be stern at them.

Peter collapsed onto his couch while Remus was already comfortably seated and reading one of Sirius' books.

With the ease of somebody who knew his way around the house, James took down the jar of Floo powder that Sirius kept on a shelf of books beside the fireplace, threw some into the fireplace and called out his address.

Lily's head appeared in the fire and took stock of the four men. All of them were in yesterday's robes and had disheveled hair (James' more than usual).

Raising an eyebrow at James, she said, "looks like you enjoyed yourself."

James gave her an offended look but was biting back a smile "I never enjoy anything without you."

"I highly doubt that James." Lily's eyes were twinkling. "You'd marry Sirius if you could."

There were a series of guffaws behind him. Remus said: _Imagine the children._

James gave her a highly scandalized look, his posture betraying that it was a game they played often.

"Come home soon, luv. I'll have breakfast." Then raising her voice, she added, "invitation's open to all."

James waited for the chorus of _thanks Lily_ and Sirius' _make kippers_, to die down before he reached his hand into the flames towards her. "Be there soon, luv."

Her hand snaked out of the flames and they held hands for a moment before ending the conversation.

"I heard someone say breakfast." Sirius said jovially.

James faced the group on the couch. "That's your stomach, Padfoot. You're starting to hear things."

Then taking the three bottles of Firewhiskey beside him, he said, "Heads up!" James tossed a bottle to Peter, who fumbled for a bit, and to Remus, who caught it with perfect reflexes even with the distraction of the book he was reading.

"You do plan to share the last one with me, Prongs." Sirius said.

"No. While we were doing all the work, you were having some alone time with a girl."

Sirius felt his cheeks heat up when the memory of the argument came back to him. Despite the fatigue of the long day, Dorcas' words seemed to haunt him. What troubled him was how easy the conversation had stepped into the personal and how he'd been acting irrational without really understanding why he did it.

James raised an eyebrow but remained mercifully silent.

Remus marked his place with a finger then closed his book. "Who would have thought Dorcas Meadowes would be your spy." He mused.

"Yeah, after that stunt she pulled in your Uncle Alphard's shop." Peter added.

"Well, that would make sense if she were trying to keep up appearances," Remus began. "But I remember her from school."

"You knew her from Hogwarts?" Sirius asked inordinately curious. He certainly didn't remember Dorcas and he would have thought that the Marauders knew everything about each other, including the other's friends. "How come I've never seen her before?"

Remus shrugged. "She was a fifth year prefect our sixth year. Polite. Reserved and very quiet, but funny the few times I heard her say anything. Actually, you've seen her. Remember that time in the Astr-" he stopped as if he realized something. "Never mind."

"Maybe she wasn't your type. You certainly noticed _the other_ girls." James said dryly, making Peter snicker.

Sirius suddenly remembered the lewd look he gave her and hoped that he hadn't gone red again.

Remus glanced at his watch. "I've got to go. Meeting with Dumbledore. Sirius?"

"I'm going later."

"I'll go too." Peter said. "Need to show up at home or mum will get worried."

Remus had already thrown some Floo powder into the fireplace when Sirius' voice stopped him.

"You know, Remus, I never would have thought that you knew Cassie."

Remus gave Sirius a small surprised look which faded into a knowing glance- similar to the one that James threw him earlier- that made Sirius wonder what was so clear to both Remus and James that he hasn't figured out yet.

Raising his bottle of Firewhiskey in thanks, Remus stepped into the fireplace, followed by Peter and they were gone.

"How about breakfast, Sirius?" James asked already throwing floo powder into the fireplace. "I'm sure Lily's made enough for five. Besides you look like you need some company."

Sirius deliberated on saying no, but James was right. He didn't handle being alone very well, and he was curious as to the glances they've been giving him. Besides, free breakfast was to be had.

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Sirius had just stepped out of the fire and was brushing soot from his robes when James immediately cornered him with a question.

"So, Padfoot, _what is_ bothering you?"

"Should there be something?" Sirius gave a nonchalant shrug.

James gave him an indulgent laugh. "You think I want you to be here, when I haven't seen my very busy girlfriend in days? Come on, Black."

"James?" Lily called then emerged from the kitchen. "Oh, Sirius. No Remus or Peter?"

"Order business." James answered then gave her a fierce hug.

"Hey Lily." Sirius greeted.

Once James released her, Lily ruffled Sirius' hair affectionately then tilted her head towards the kitchen. "Breakfast." Then added with a tired smile. "Sorry, no kippers, Sirius."

When Lily was out of earshot, James stopped Sirius with a hand on his shoulder. He gave Sirius a demanding look.

Sirius knew there was no way out of James' determined expression. It was typical James, really, this unending concern for him. Remus can read him well enough, more often than not, but James had the uncanny ability to be able to see right through him. And while Remus would wait for him to disclose the information, James would bully it out of him, the mulish bastard.

"After breakfast, Prongs," he said resignedly.

James released his shoulder. "After breakfast."

How Lily managed to prepare breakfast for them after a twenty-four hour Auror shift was beyond Sirius, but the witch had never ceased to impress- and mother- the Marauders and it was no surprise that she managed to win all of their hearts one way or another. Which is why her uncharacteristic silence during breakfast, probably due to the fatigue and the shock of the deaths, troubled not only James but also him. There was very little talk during the meal and she excused herself quickly from their company and headed for sleep.

James stared for a long moment at the empty doorway through which Lily disappeared to before facing Sirius.

"You came in from that talk with Dorcas looking angry." James began without preamble. "Care to share?"

"No, not really." Sirius said with finality, a tone James had learned long ago to ignore if he wanted to get some answers from a brooding Sirius.

"Is it the deaths?"

"A bit." Sirius gritted his teeth. "They killed a child, Prongs. A little girl. Because her mother is muggle. She was a halfblood, who started showing magical abilities. But-"

James waited patiently for his answer, a kind expression on his face.

Sirius mulled around what he was feeling, not really sure what to say.

"I don't know James." Sirius said finally. "I'm confused, really. Frustrated that I'm not doing much. Look at Lily. I shouldn't have quit Auror training."

"You regret it?"

"Dumbledore needed me for something else." Sirius shook his head. "But yeah, sometimes I do. I resent not being able to do more." Then taking a deep breath, he continued. "I'm bloody angry at Regulus for joining that group. And at myself. I feel like I should have done more for him, but every time we see each other we end up telling each other to bugger off."

James remained silent during his long rant and Sirius was thankful. He wasn't one to control his temper, and with the floodgates were open, he just wanted to go on.

"And I um sort of," Sirius mumbled, "argued with Meadowes." He neglected to mention the insulting words he said.

His face flushed again at the memory of what he said and he found James raising an eyebrow at him. James unspoken _why_ hung heavily in the air.

Confusion lay thickly in his mind because he couldn't comprehend why he was so bothered by how his brother treated Dorcas in the pub. His brother. Acting that way. Maybe it was that. Maybe, deep inside, despite everything, he would like to believe that Regulus is a decent person and that he took Regulus' offensive behavior as a personal insult. It was impolite and assuming of Regulus to treat Dorcas in such a way. Unless, of course, she allowed him to do so. And that bothered him, as well. If they mean something to each other, it could be a reason for her to turn against the Order.

"I was annoyed with how Regulus was treating her and how she allowed it."

James snorted. "Hardly a valid reason. You're just fishing around for answers, Sirius."

"Well I was annoyed." Sirius growled. "It's just that _I don't trust her._ I mean look at what she did in the shop. What is stopping her from turning against us?"

"You find it hard to trust anybody you didn't dorm with, Sirius. Or anybody who isn't Gryffindor for that matter." James gave him a small smile. "Remember what Albus said, nobody is asking you to trust her completely at this point. But don't you think it would be easier for _both of you_ if you were a bit civil, considering that after what happened, you'll be working with each other more often."

Sirius saw the logic in James words. Dumbledore trusted her, and so should he. Besides she hasn't shown anything _outright_ that should make him mistrust her. They had a job to do, and they couldn't let small, petty arguments get in the way. But his pride made him refuse to acknowledge it.

"It can't be any easier for her, to act as spy." James said

Sirius continued to sulk quietly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Sirius, stop being a prat. Act like an adult." James snapped.

"Fine." He conceded sulkily. "I'll be civil."

* * *

Later that day, Sirius went to Hogwarts to deliver the glass orbs. Walking through the halls of Hogwarts imparted a feeling of nostalgia, and he grinned back when more than a few of the seventh year girls gave him shy glances. One of the braver seventh years, an attractive one with fluttering eyelashes and fitted robes- Gryffindor by the color, slipped him a piece of parchment with her Floo address. He winked back at her and couldn't help the arrogant smile on his face when she blushed in return. After the scolding James gave him, he needed an ego boost. 

His elated mood didn't last long. After recounting Dorcas' report, Dumbledore asked him to stay to view the glass orb as well. When he saw Lucius Malfoy kick the mother and child, he wondered if he were in Dorcas place if he could have restrained himself from hexing Malfoy straight to next week.

James' words came back to him. _It can't be any easier for her, to act as spy._

There was another thing that bothered him. Sirius recognized immediately the tallest of the Death Eaters, even with his face covered. Regulus. He prayed he wouldn't need the skill someday to identify a body with an indistinguishable face.

Before leaving, he shared with Dumbledore the possibility of giving Dorcas one of the magical mirrors he and James used when they served separate detentions, to make communication easier. James' had brought up the idea after he retold exactly how Dorcas contacted him. Dumbledore agreed that it would make communication between him and the spy easier, faster and a bit more discreet.

On his way out of Hogwarts, the seventh year who handed him her Floo address- Salome- cornered him in one of the more secluded corridors. Any other time, he wouldn't have minded the impromptu snogging session and might have taken advantage of it. Being a seventh year she was most likely no longer a minor, but the talk of war with Dumbledore turned his stomach off the thought. He turned her down with an apology.

He looked at the piece of paper in his hand and tossed it in the nearest bin.

All of a sudden, he felt older than he really is.

* * *

AN: My apologies and thanks to all those who waited for this.Medschool has been eatingup my time and I feel bad because I haven't been able to update as often as I should.

Anyway, next chapter will show a slightly changed Sirius, Dorcas' reaction to all this and the discovery of something sinister.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Loweses Murdered. Voldemort's Supporters Claim Responsibility.**

The headline of the Daily Prophet flashed boldly from news stands. The Death Eaters had sent a mission statement the Daily Prophet insisting that such was retribution against what they claim was an invasion of Wizarding society by the undeserving. From under the headline, a picture of the Dark Mark blinked eerily on top of the Lowes' home, captured perpetually in a moving wizarding photograph, except that this one was stationary, owing to the lack of life in the house.

The paper was sold out within an hour of hitting the stands, and reprints were well underway by the time Dorcas was able to buy her own copy. She needed to see the picture, even if she had seen it up close the night before and she studied the photograph with a strange sense of detachment, as if it wasn't she that whispered _morsmordre_ last night.

Perhaps she was finally numb over what happened, which started a small intellectual fear in her. Desensitization was necessary to a certain extent in her job, but she feared succumbing to it; as Benjy told her once, during a mission a long time ago- _don't let them take away your capacity to feel, because then they've won._

And she was slowly losing the battle to it. The sleeping draught that she used regularly was slowly losing its effectivity, and she was finding it harder to find some form of rest.

The argument with Sirius was another thing. She has never met anybody so antagonistic. She expected him to be distant and mistrustful but not outright insulting.

She shook it off. She wasn't one to care about what other people thought about her. Years in Slytherin meant that she has met fair share of people who didn't like her on the basis of her house alone and she had learned long ago not to be affected.

She made a resolution. It was for the best if she tried to be polite to him since it would facilitate the movement of information to Dumbledore. Besides, Sirius was sort of her safety net in this war.

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Because of the of the previous night, the lobby of the Ministry of Magic was bustling with more activity than usual. Witches and wizards with_ visitor_ badges were applying for relocation permits.

Everybody was carrying a copy of the Prophet.

She edged her way through the crowd having their wands registered, walked by the Fountain of Magical Brethren and was finally able to make her way to the lifts after a few well-placed elbows.

The lift returned three times before she was finally able to get on, despite that, it was still a tight squeeze. Limbs wound around bodies awkwardly; bags and suitcases bumped legs. An elbow dug into Dorcas' side while a sharp-heeled lady trod on her foot without so much as a sorry.

And that thing jabbing the small of her back better be a wand and not something else hard and pointy.

Owls twitted madly near the ceiling, hitting each other in their frantic search for as much space to fly about and shedding a few feathers in the process.

_They should ban owls from the Ministry._

Dorcas brushed a feather off her shoulder and made a mental reminder to support Icarus Wright's petition to use charmed paper airplanes as the main form of communication within the Ministry.

She was grateful when the elevator stopped at her floor, breathing better as she made her way to the Prophecy Record Section.

The stillness of the Prophecy Record Section was a startling contrast to the chaos outside. The moment Dorcas entered the section, she immediately noticed Gustav's absence. Her gruff boss always arrived before office hours and the lack of his presence behind his desk was conspicuous.

A note on her desk, with Gustav's calligraphy-like penmanship, explained his absence. The Keeper of Prophesies had gone off to attend to a family business and she was free to take the day off as well.

The mess on Gustav's desk was unusual; her boss, who was orderly to the point of being compulsive, explained the situation better than the note. Quills and parchment were strewn everywhere as if her boss was in a frantic search for something. The Daily Prophet lay open on the Lowes article, which was blotchy in places. Dorcas wondered if Gustav was muggle-born.

For a moment, Dorcas was tempted to ditch working and spend the rest of the day catching up on sleep, but common sense won out and it was with a deep sigh that she headed towards Madame Tutela's office.

As she was winding through the corridors, a streak of light caught her eye, she turned around and tried to get a better look at where it came from.

She caught the back of a tallish man with long and very light blond hair, the bright blue flames that illuminated most of the Department of Mysteries reflecting off the locks, giving it an almost ethereal sheen.

She recognized that back and hair as belonging to Lucius Malfoy. The conversation drifting down the corridor towards her was about a donation to one of the divisions in the Department.

Malfoy's voice was getting louder, which meant he was heading her way. She really didn't have any reason to be this deep into the Department of Mysteries if she was merely a secretary for the Prophecy Record Section, so she ducked into an adjoining corridor to keep from being seen.

_So Malfoy was donating large sums of money to the Department._ Dorcas ruminated on this then let it go. It didn't seem generally important and it could simply be an investment to maintain the respectability of the Malfoy name.

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Branches of bright green leaves filtering the harsh sunlight decked the magical ceiling of the door-less and windowless office of the stern head of the Incolumitas Division. It was rare for Tutela to have the ceiling mimic the outside sky, doing it only when she was worried, and it was a sign of trouble that this was pretty close to the outside world's current atmospheric condition.

Once again Dorcas was standing, since Tutela did not have chairs in her office other than her own, watching as Tutela viewed her record of the evening. Every so often, Tutela would nod and mutter, _I see, I see_, and Dorcas supposed that she was relating this piece of datum with the information other members of the Division collected. Tutela was the only one who knew every detail of the Division; all information collected passed through her.

"They will conduct a number of these." Tutela's steely voice interrupted Dorcas' lazy observation of the ceiling.

Dorcas assented, knowing things could only escalate. "For the Death Eaters that they will recruit and initiate."

"Yes. There will be deaths, and they will be unavoidable, before we can start catching these people."

Aside from that, Tutela was pretty mum. Dorcas was used to that. It had long ceased to bother her that she sometimes went into some missions blind.

Yet Tutela surprised her by giving her a the day off. Dorcas headed home and spent the day trying to catch the sleep that always somehow eluded her.

When Dorcas woke up, the sun had already set. Her apartment was very dark except for a corner where a faint light emanated from the smoky form of the phoenix and apparition coordinates.

Coat on, one wand strapped to her forearm and another nestled in her palm, she left her apartment and made her way to a public park four blocks away. Apparition wards around her apartment prevented unknown people from coming uninvited, but it also kept her from disapparating from there.

The park was deserted, except on weekends when couples would take late night strolls, and was perfect for her purpose. She headed for usual disapparition point, which was under one of the slides where the shadows under its incline grew long and menacing.

With a pop, she was gone.

The place where she ended up was dark and rank, with walls going up on both sides of her and the cobblestones beneath her feet stretched endlessly before and behind her. "_Lumos_," she muttered and waved the light from her wand tip around her. She was in an alleyway, where the feeble light of her wand hardly penetrated the darkness, though at one end, she caught a brief reflection of silver. She pressed her back against one of the walls and inched forwards slowly towards the faint light.

"Meadowes."

She whirled around, her wand held out, and found herself facing Sirius.

"I should hex you." She said before she could stop herself. She mentally reminded herself of her promise to be polite to him.

"Sorry." Sirius gave her a glib shrug, undermining the apology. "We should go. Order business."

She struggled to keep her promise to be polite.

He held out a copy of the Prophet to her. "Portkey," he explained.

Dorcas held on to the broadsheet, then felt the tugging on her stomach as the world around her dissolved and blurred.

When the world around them reformed, Dorcas saw that they were transported to a quaint village square. Tile roofs jutted out everywhere, their triangular forms interrupted by chimneys with smoke curling leisurely to the starry night. Faded music came from a pub a few stores down where light and people spilled out to the streets. A group of children were chasing each other, their laughter filling the night air.

Sirius folded the newspaper and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Godric's Hollow," he said giving a vague flop of hand that encompassed the whole village. "We're going to have to walk. Apparition directly to the place is impossible without a Potter around."

"Why? Where are we going?"

"The Potters' residence."

The townspeople greeted a cheery _good evening_ to them to which Sirius would call them by name and return the greeting.

"Are they wizarding?" Dorcas asked, truly curious. While some of the villagers were wearing robes, a good number were in muggle clothing.

She didn't really expect him to answer, considering their argument the night before. She sighed.

_Be polite, Dorcas._

Surprisingly, Sirius replied, "mixed." He waved at a husband and wife who called his name. "But a lot of the muggles married wizarding folk so it seems stupid to enforce the Statute of Secrecy. The muggles that didn't intermarry just know about magic, talked about it for generation after generation, long before the Statute had been in effect."

The houses started getting sparse and farther apart and Dorcas realized that they were nearing the edge of the town. When the last of the houses shrank away from view, the path they were on started to incline and wind around a small hill.

She snuck a peek at her walking companion, remembering her promise to herself to be polite, wondering if she should make conversation and what kind since the argument yesterday made the situation awkward. But she saw that Sirius head was tilted back and was happy enough to stroll while stargazing.

Dorcas began to feel slightly uncomfortable and was touched by a strange sense of surrealism. The town and Sirius relaxed posture was so out of character with the events in London, like the place had been detached from the rest of the world.

As if able to read her thoughts, Sirius broke the silence. "The town has very strong ties. They look after each other. I dare say that if Death Eaters try anything there, they'll have a small army to contend with. Besides, there are very strong magic wards around the entire village set by the first Potters, a long time ago."

Considering how they parted yesterday, Dorcas was surprised by his amicability. Perhaps he also decided that politeness was the way to go. Had their argument yesterday escalated, it was very possible that they could have been caught and they couldn't afford another one of those.

Genuinely curious about his knowledge of the village, she couldn't help but ask: "You seem to be familiar with the place?"

Sirius gave her a surprised look; maybe he wasn't expecting her to talk to him. "I lived here, for a time, while I was trying to stand on my own feet," he answered.

The silence that comes between two people who were partly acquaintances but mostly strangers settled between them and Dorcas mind drifted languorously to whatever topic her mind alighted upon. She thought about James Potter and his family's stand on muggle relations and how Godric's Hollow probably affected their beliefs. She thought about Sirius' surprisingly civil attitude towards her and his mercurial moods during the past two encounters and couldn't begin to understand the whys behind it. Then she thought about nothing in particular, only about how lovely the village was, how relaxing the sultry air felt, and how maybe Sirius was just influenced by the restful atmosphere to keep up their argument last night.

* * *

James, Remus, Lily, Emmeline, Moody and Dumbledore were there, by the time they reached the Potter's residence. James' parents were in the town pub to catch up on town news and gossip, which was their usual habit one night a week.

"You took long enough." James said slyly and took their coats. Sirius rolled his eyes at him but said nothing and extended rambunctious hellos to everybody. Sirius saw that Dorcas stood hesitantly towards one side and noted that James gave her one of his reassuring smiles and ushered her towards the dining room where everybody was seated around a long, rectangular table.

"Ah yes. Sirius, Dorcas, it is good that the two of you could join us." Dumbledore gestured towards the two empty seats opposite each other at the other end of the table. "Please help yourselves to the wonderful tea that James made." He then proceeded to introduce Dorcas to the rest of the Order.

"As Sirius, and after last night, James and Remus know, Miss Meadowes is our spy-"

There was a low murmur from Moody, who glanced at her with glowering eyes.

Dumbledore continued. "First things first-"

"Albus, aren't we going to wait for the other Order members?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore gave a faint smile. "The other Order members have things to attend to but they will be properly informed. However, the thing to be discussed concerns the members we have present."

Dumbledore pulled out the pensieve from his robes and he showed them his memory of the record Dorcas made. The room was unnaturally quiet as they watched the strange scene with the four bodies bathed in moonlight.

There were gasps and curses when they saw Malfoy kick the mother and child. Across from him, he saw that while Dorcas was riveted by the image of her memory, her face was impassive. The only indication she was rattled by what they were watching was the firm set of her jaw.

They heard the record Dorcas whisper the morsmordre spell and watched the skull erupt from her wand; then the memory was over.

The entire table was staring at her, but Dorcas was looking at her hands.

Dumbledore cut through the uneasiness by speaking first.

"This will probably be the first of many and we should be prepared. And there are other things that we need to discuss." Dumbledore turned to Emmeline Vance. "Emmeline?"

Emmeline faced the group. "I have reports of increased purchases of wolfsbane. None of them from local growers, even if the local supply could fill this demand."

Wolfsbane, when ingested in large quantities is a poison to lycanthropes. Sirius glanced at Remus, trying to discern how he was taking the news. Remus' forehead was furrowed as if in deep thought which Sirius knew meant that he was deeply concerned about the situation.

"All imported from France, Spain and Portugal. Three companies Magus Corp., Chants Industries and Belladona Incorporated." Emmeline finished.

"Magus and Belladona, I'm certain Goyle and Malfoy sits on the board of those." James said.

"That's exactly what I was thinking." Emmeline said. "Malfoy is one of the directors of Chants Industries as well. So are Jarrick Crawe and Yosef Karkarof. I know it's a long shot."

"But you were thinking of Bristol." Remus finished.

Earlier that year, Voldemort supporters held a rally in Bristol, talking about werewolf rights.

"What I don't get is why." Emmeline said. "Why buy werewolf poison if Voldemort was eager to get their support."

Sirius turned to Remus then James then said what was on their minds. He knew Remus would be uncomfortable to explain it. "The werewolves are a force to be reckoned with. Exceptionally strong, almost uncontrollable. Wolfsbane would be a good way to blackmail them into joining him. Or if they do join of their own accord, it would be a good way to-" he hesitated, not wanting to use the word kill in Remus' presence- "_manage_ them if they disagree with Voldemort. I wouldn't put it past Voldemort to have them do the work then let them take the blame, the prejudice against them being what it is."

"And with the discrimination going on, it wouldn't be difficult to convince them to support Voldemort." James added. "Since he has been espousing equal rights to the werewolves."

"Ironic, really." Remus said quietly.

"A lot of anti Ministry sentiment from the group already." Lily said giving Remus a sympathetic look. "Especially after Bristol."

"Ah yes." Dumbledore addressed them but was studying the candles that floated near the ceiling. "Is the Ministry aware of these purchases, Alastor?"

"Yes, low alert level. Proudfoot, laddie fresh from training's looking into it." Moody growled. "I'll assign somebody with a better head. Bloody Voldemort supporters importing werewolf poison." He muttered.

Sirius saw Remus wince.

Dumbledore gazed down the table to the person in front of Sirius. "Dorcas?"

Dorcas shook her head. "The Department has Fenwick looking into potion masters in Southern England. Something about the preparation of Wolfsbane. But that's all I'm cleared to know. Could be poison preparation, I'm not certain. "

_Department?_ Sirius was curious. From what he gathered from James, Dorcas Meadowes was supposed to be the secretary of the Keeper of Prophecies. He was about to ask when Moody beat him to it.

"How would you...?" Moody's expression showed that he was more suspicious than usual.

Sirius saw Dorcas throw Dumbledore a questioning look to which the Headmaster tilted his chin slightly. It must have been an ascent because Dorcas actually answered Moody's question.

"Unspeakable," She said.

Sirius stared at her. _Unspeakable?_ Now that was a surprise. Yet on the other hand, it explained some things, he supposed, like how come she was their spy. And the secrecy.

"_Bloody hell, you brought a spookie in Albus_. How do we know she's not _lying_ through her teeth?" Then addressing Dorcas, "convenient cover being a spook, isn't it. We can't verify you." Moody continued in the same tone that had scared more than a few criminals into confessing.

Dumbledore's tone was firm. "That is enough, Alastor. Ms. Meadowes is in the Order on my invitation, as are all of you. As grateful as I am of the sacrifice each of you are willing to make, as long as we stand divided against Voldemort we cannot defeat him. I have said this before and I will say it again, I do not ask that you trust her immediately as such things take time but at least _allow her that time_ to earn your trust."

Moody gave her a suspicious look for a moment then grudgingly offered his hand and didn't press for more. Dorcas shook his hand.

"Remus, ask among the werewolves. See if you can find anything." Dumbledore said.

Remus nodded.

"Dorcas, see what you can find from the Department on this." Dumbledore turned towards Sirius. "Sirius, what ab-"

Kingsley Shacklebolt's head in the fireplace interrupted the meeting.

"Evening." Shacklebolt nodded to the group. "Moody, Lily, we need you. The Dark Mark has been spotted in five different places."

Instantaneously, everybody around the table was on their feet.

"I'll go with you." Sirius said heading towards the fireplace beside Lily and Moody. James was already there.

Lily and Moody stepped into the grate one after the other then twirled and was gone.

"Sirius, no. I need to speak to you." Dumbledore commanded. Sirius already had one foot in the fireplace, which he quickly pulled out. He was confused but he obeyed anyway.

Dumbledore turned to the other Marauders. "James, Remus, go with them." The two flooed away to the Ministry, as well.

"Emmeline, check your muggle contacts. See how much they know and how much the Ministry is keeping from them." Emmeline went to the front door; she would probably walk to the village and disapparate.

Dumbledore turned to the remaining people in the kitchen. "Sirius, I want you to instruct Dorcas on the use of the mirrors." Sirius stopped pacing when he heard his name.

"Dorcas, go home. If you are called, if they ask, it is best if you could think of a reason for your absence from your home."

"Yes headmaster."

"Sirius, be ready. We may need you, if Dorcas is called. And I might call you if we need an extra pair of hands tonight." Dumbledore explained. "I'm off, I must see to these people."

Once Dumbledore had left, they gave hasty good byes to the Potters and followed suit. They ran all the way back to the village, wanting to reach the disapparition point as soon as possible.

When they were back at the center of the town, Sirius turned to her and noticed that she was panting slightly from their descent down the small hill. He was hardly winded at all and was grateful for all the exercise Padfoot got from keeping up with a werewolf.

"You okay, Meadowes?" Sirius reached out and awkwardly patted her back.

"I'm fine." She said when her breathing normalized.

"The mirrors." Sirius said, recalling Dumbledore's instructions. "James came up with the idea."

He handed Dorcas one of the mirrors, which was haphazardly wrapped in a piece of linen then held onto the other one.

Dorcas opened the linen then looked up at Sirius. "Communicating Speculums?"

"Yes. You're familiar with them?"

"Heard of them, but never seen one before." Her head was still bowed over the mirror. "Very rare," she murmured, turning the one in her hand over.

"Meadowes." Sirius said into the mirror in his hand. Dorcas jumped when his face appeared on the mirror in her hand. Sirius nodded at her image in his own mirror.

"We'll be able to talk using this." Sirius explained. "Then to deactivate it, mention your own name. That way if they find it..."

She nodded.

Sirius gazed up from her face in the mirror and found, himself staring at the crown of her head.

He remembered that he was supposed to be civil to her.

_Well, so far we've gotten along._

Then his words of last night came back to him. _Oh I think you're going to have to think of a more personal reason as to why he's been groping you. I'm a man, Cassie. I know what groping looks like._

His promise to James and Albus's words this meeting and some of the previous Order meetings came back to him.

He swallowed his pride. Mistrust or not, they were offensive words. It really was his fault that he couldn't control his temper, regardless of his reasons.

"Meadowes, I need to talk to you." He closed his eyes then opened them. "About last night."

The air around them changed, cooled. He saw that she stiffened.

Her head moved slightly in what he assumed was a nod. "So talk." She said brusquely, the slight truce they had going on the way up to the Potters gone. She refused to look at him. He supposed he deserved the treatment.

"Meadowes, I'm sorry."

He gathered his Gryffindor courage. "I was angry at my brother, and I took it out on you. Yesterday, that was my fault."

She closed her eyes, exhaled loudly then opened them again.

"It's fine." She said stiffly and whatever form of emotion when she was loosening up a bit around him was gone once again, kept in careful check.

But he could see it, now that he was finally observing her, now that he had observed her a few times. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked waxy. She looked tired, and not just physically tired but weary. The contents of the orb- what she went through- turning over the body of Gregory Lowes, seeing that up close- flashed in his mind. That was enough to break some people, but here she was trying to cope with it. Alone. Something bloomed within him that was close enough to pity. He supposed that there wasn't anything that he was doing that was helping matters.

Dorcas lifted her head and looked at him, finally. There was an uncertain look on her face which was replaced by understanding. "You don't trust me." She began slowly. "I don't blame you. It's expected. But thank you for the apology-" she patted the pocket of her robes- "and for this." Then she disapparated.

_That apology was relatively easy,_ he thought. He was surprised that she took it quite well. But then, not everybody's as hot tempered as he.

* * *

AN: 

Sorry for the delay and thanks for patiently waiting for this. Hopefully the story will be done by June. (keeping fingers crossed)

To cite sources:  
JKR said that Godric's Hollow is not the house but the village where the Potters' residence was located, I just can't remember the website where I read this.

Also, the Wolfsbane Potion hasn't been invented at the time this story is set, thus the plant would be known for poisonous properties and not for its calming effect on werewolves._"... The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery..."_ (PoA ch 18: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs)


	16. Chapter Fourteen

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Five. Five. Five. _

The word reverberated inside her head.

Everything was happening so fast. The Loweses were murdered yesterday. Then tonight, the Dark Mark was spotted in five different places.

She felt the weight of her responsibility. What was the point of being a spy if she couldn't come up with information on the attacks before they happened?

She ran all the way back to her apartment.

Sitting at the top of the steps leading to her basement apartment was Regulus Black. Of all the unsafe positions, he was sitting with his back towards her and the street. As she approached, she made as much noise as possible.

"Where were you?" He asked as he turned around to face her. He was standing in the shadows, his face obscured and his light eyes reflecting the light, making for an eerie sight.

She gave the name of a shabby twenty-four hour teashop that sold industrial strength tea and coffee to night owls; she and Benjy discovered it on one of their all night stakeouts. It was a muggle shop and she hoped that it was tasteless enough to dissuade Regulus to check out her alibi. She said she needed some strong coffee because work had been piling up.

Regulus shrugged away her reasons. "You should have told me you wouldn't be here. Our time isn't ours it's the Dark Lord's. There were missions tonight and we should have assisted in them. We will pay because of our tardiness." There was censure in his voice as well as something else. To Dorcas it sounded like fear and uncertainty.

Without any care for onlookers, Regulus pulled out a cracked butterbeer bottle. "Come, we should go."

The portkey transported them to a deserted cemetery (muggle by the looks of it) that was bereft of any light except for balls of blue flame that hovered in the air, casting a dim light on the graying tombstones and emphasizing a couple of hooded shadowy figures. A soft breeze wafted the scent of papery leaves, moist earth and something quite unpleasant that one can only smell in old cemeteries. Leafy trees with wide spreading branches loomed overhead, obscuring their vision and Dorcas mustered the courage to continue her progress down the stone path, the crunch of gravel beneath hers and Regulus' feet as her only guide.

The cloaked figures beckoned them quietly and ushered them deeper into the cemetery. One of the cloaked figures removed his wand and balanced it in his palm, muttering the direction spell. Once in a while, the Death Eater stopped their progress and corrected their direction accordingly.

The small balls of blue flame followed their progress until they reached what Dorcas assumed was the heart of the cemetery, since the wand sitting on the Death Eater's palm, no longer pointed steadily in one direction, but rather spun around continuously on his palm.

One of the cloaked figures spoke without preamble: "The Dark Lord wishes for us to summon inferi to build his army."

_Inferi._ Dorcas felt a strange tingle run up and down her spine. Beside her, Regulus tensed visibly, but remained silent.

That explained why they were in a muggle cemetery. Wizarding people knew of the dangers of their bodies being used as puppets and took precautions against it by being buried in tombs laden with enough spells to counter the inferius curse.

"Black, stand on the South corner. Meadowes, take the Eastern corner." The other Death Eater commanded. Dorcas recognized the voice as belonging to Lucius.

Dorcas waited for other instructions to be given, but none was forthcoming. Instead, Lucius took the Western point, opposite her while the other Death Eater positioned himself to the North.

"INFERIUS" The still unknown Death Eater shouted and waved his wand over the tombstones.

A low rumbling filled the air.

Dorcas felt her body start to prickle. Then the sensation changed into white, hot pain in the pit of her stomach. She felt her knees go weak and she fell. Beside her, Regulus was already on the ground, clawing the soil soundlessly, his face contorted in pain. Lucius Malfoy was still standing upright, but was doubled over, holding his middle.

The only person who was not affected by the spell was the Death Eater who cast it.

Dorcas felt the ground beneath her move and watched alarmed but helpless as a hand, then two emerged from the soil a few feet away. Dorcas coughed as the putrid smell of decay grew stronger. One of the Death Eaters gagged loudly. Slowly, the hands clawed and pushed until a body emerged, standing upright and looming over her.

Then the rumbling stopped.

Dorcas realized that the spell was over and found out, that despite the lingering ache in her limbs and stomach, she could finally stand up.

Around their circle, dozens and dozens of bodies stood upright. The once faint smell of decay, was now overpowering. Men, women and children, all with lank hair and clothes spanning various historical ages stared at them through cloudy corneas. Their flesh looked pale under the moonlight and their veins, long devoid of blood and warmth stood black and stark against their skin.

"Your work is done." The Death Eater addressed them. Then in Latin: "Come."

The Inferi weaved around Dorcas, Lucius and Regulus, paying them no heed and followed the hooded figure's movements to the outskirts of the graveyard, like rats after the sound of a pipe.

Lucius met their eyes briefly before Disapparating. Regulus followed suit.

If not for the uprooted grass, shifted earth and large gaping holes, the cemetery almost looked peaceful. Dorcas tried to take deep breaths to control her fear and her galloping heart.

She reached for the communicating speculum.

"Black." She whispered furiously. "Black."

* * *

In place of a stately structure was a blackened ruin, its imposing stone walls toppled over and the dust of the crushed structure hung in the air, rendering it darker and foggier, stinging the eyes and abrading the skin. Through the air, thickened by the dust of ruin and the nightly fog, the Dark Mark, a glinting image of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth, could be spotted vaguely.

Sirius refrained from removing the Dark Mark himself. He knew that an Auror would have to do it.

Sirius treaded carefully over the charred pieces of wood, splintered and strewn over the ash littered ground. A spell cast over his boots protected his feet from the shards of colored glass that once adorned the massive center hall.

Sirius stepped closer to what looked like a bed on top of which was a charred body. He waved his wand a bit, clearing the debris over it. The face and features were indistinguishable, covered by soot and blisters and melted skin, but basing from the size of the corpse, Sirius guessed that the body used to be male.

Another wave of his wand revealed a second bed and another charred body, this time from the size, Sirius could only guess that it might be female, or a child.

Another wave of his wand revealed another bed and another body.

"Kingsley!" Sirius shouted, his voice slightly hoarse.

The Auror approached as briskly as possible given the amount of broken glass.

"Sirius. What is it?"

Sirius pointed mutely at the bodies he revealed. "What is this place."

Kingsley stared at the bodies, his expression unchanging, but his eyes glittered brightly. "Officially it's a muggle shelter, run partly on the muggle ministry's funds. But it's the volunteers and the donations that kept it open."

Sirius looked ahead of him, into the now wide open space of what used to be a center hall and could imagine row after row of beds filled with the homeless. He muttered a low curse and angrily kicked a piece of rubble.

"What is it," Sirius said, "unofficially?"

Kingsley gave him a knowing look and a grim smile.

"An unofficial safe house. Wizards looking for a new identity, the ones being threatened, the ones that the Ministry can't help, they go here. Somebody runs an underground service here, generating new identities for these people to blend into muggle England or if possible, smuggle them out of the country."

The crunching of glass behind them stopped their conversation.

"He shouldn't be here, Shacklebolt." A wizard Sirius recognized as Dawlish said.

"Moody cleared him." Kingsley drawled calmly.

"The blasted old man's going insane."

Kingsley gave him a scathing look. "Moody IS senior Auror. Besides, Black's the one who found this."

The Dawlish gazed down at the burnt body.

"Bloody Hell."

The Auror Dawlish stared at the body for a full minute before tapping his wand to his throat. "Proudfoot, Johnston. Over here."

Dawlish gave Shacklebolt a dark look before proceeding further, clearing rubble as he passed.

Once Dawlish was out of earshot, Sirius turned to Kingsley. "The Ministry knows about this?"

"The Ministry can't protect the entire wizarding population, so it turns a blind eye to those who can. But the operation is carefully monitored, although the Ministry is deluded to think that it knows enough about the operation."

Sirius noticed that despite being a Ministry employee, Shacklebolt seems to think of himself outside of the group.

They started walking to the right, clearing debris in this direction, revealing more bodies underneath.

Outside, the once quiet night was slowly being filled with the voices of people who were just becoming aware of the destroyed building. The Aurors stationed outside would have their hands full.

"So this group is hiding someone important from the Death Eaters?" Sirius asked.

He stopped for a moment and bent closer to the ground. Since this was a place that harbored wizards, Sirius was keeping an eye out for any evidence of magical items. He thought he spotted something magical- a unicorn tail core, slightly singed but still silvery. He waved his wand, only to reveal that it was a silver hair tie.

"It is quite possible." Shacklebolt answered, his attention also on the ground as he lifted up a piece of wood. "However, I think this is more of an attack on the head of the group. Edgar Bones."

Sirius gave him a surprised look.

Shacklebolt waved his wand over the wood, which gave a faint red light.

"Used to be part of a wand," Sirius muttered studying the wooden fragment. "But no core."

Kingsley nodded while extracting a black pouch the size of his palm. The black evidence bag re-sized itself with a wave of his wand and Kingsley deposited the wood into the bag then pocketed it.

A faint noise coming from his pocket alerted Sirius. Sirius pulled the mirror out and found the dirt smudged face of Dorcas.

"She's an Order member." Sirius told Kingsley. "She was in the meeting this evening, you mustn't have noticed in the commotion."

Sirius cast a Distraction Charm around their vicinity then tilted the mirror slightly towards Kingsley before speaking. "Meadowes."

Sirius noted that despite the wild expression in her eyes, Dorcas' expression seemed devoid of emotion and her voice remained calm as she related to him what happened.

"The Dark Mark, the destroyed buildings and houses, I think they are merely distractions."

"Inferi." Kingsley shook his head, whispering the word in ten second intervals.

Sirius looked at Kingsley. "You should alert Moody to get the other Aurors to start a search."

"Think of an excuse on how you got this information." Dorcas said.

"Don't worry," Sirius began. "Moody has enough clout and enough of a reputation as a paranoid to be able to give out this order without being questioned too much.

Kingsley exhaled slowly. "I'll alert Moody."

"And I'll tell Dumbledore," Sirius said.

Sirius noted the stiff way she nodded her head. Through the mirror, she looked pale and wild eyed. Her face had minute scratches and her hair was disarrayed. He did not know how she would respond if he asked her if she was all right, so he did not say anything. Instead he watched her face vanish and all he saw was his reflection.


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Fifteen**

The moment she arrived home in the early hours of the morning, she wanted to send Byron to Dumbledore with an apology. After the deaths and the Inferi, she had been feeling worthless, because all of the information she has been gathering seemed to be of little use. Lives were still lost. Instead, weariness took over and Dorcas fell into a dreamless sleep.

The feeling of panic that permeated the Wizarding community rose to a new level the next day. In two consecutive nights, the death of the Loweses and the five different Death Eater attacks were too much for the Wizarding public.

The purebloods, not really wanting to ally themselves with Voldemort's supporters but shared the sentiment on the superiority of the Wizarding race, wisely remained mum.

The public, however, never got wind of the summoning of the Inferi, for which Dorcas was grateful. She didn't fully understand her role in the summoning and was yet waiting for a word from Dumbledore.

While getting dressed for work, an owl arrived with a note explaining that the Keeper of Prophesies, Gustav Rheinoff, had taken a week-long leave and that the Department of Mysteries has decided to close the Prophecy Records Section temporarily.

Just as she was about to change back into her more comfortable pajamas, another owl arrived. Recognizing immediately the plain and quite forgettable owl as belonging to the Incolumitas Division, she sighed.

"Well Byron, there goes my hopes of just lazing around." Dorcas said to her own owl, perched at the opposite end of the room as she untied the note from the Ministry owl and watched it fly out of her bedroom window.

Quite expectedly, the note was direct to the point.

_See me today. -T_

Dorcas dressed again, this time in muggle clothes and shrunk her Ministry robes before pocketing them. She would be using one of the entrances known only to the employees of the Department of Mysteries, and this necessitated passing through muggle London.

The muggle side of the city was as impersonal as ever. The lack of regard and the anonymity made Dorcas feel safer than in the Wizarding world. There was a general buzz over three of the five Death Eater attacks, since the other two attacks was stopped in time by the Aurors and MLES. The muggles however, seemed clueless to the truth and were spouting conspiracy theories about terrorist attacks that were over Dorcas' head. It would only be a matter of time before the muggles' suspicions would alert the Ministry of Magic.

The moment Dorcas Apparated into office, Althea Tutela launched immediately to business.

"After the attack on the muggle shelter, Crouch is getting desperate. Even the war against Grindewald didn't escalate this fast."

Then Tutela was quiet for a moment, studying Dorcas before she spoke again. "I want you to know this. Crouch is drafting an interdepartmental memo, allowing Aurors to use the Unforgivables, although it wouldn't be official until a few days from now. He is also hoping to keep it from the papers, but I doubt he'll be able to do that."

She tried to hide her shock. As surprising as the news is, Tutela would have her head if she responded with a blatant reaction. Dorcas carefully arranged her face into a curious expression instead. "Isn't that rash action by Crouch, ma'am? And the Prophet will have a field day with that."

"You think so Meadowes?" Tutela asked and Dorcas knew that her boss was genuinely curious to hear her opinion. Dorcas nodded.

During the debriefing for her first mission, Dorcas had been surprised when Tutela asked, not only for her report, but also her political insight on the matters. Tutela had explained that it was something she required of all of her Unspeakables and that it gave her an idea of the possible, although unconscious, biases that might color their reports. It also helped Tutela to analyze the data collected.

A mirthless smile affixed itself on Tutela's face. "Even though I agree with you that initially the press will be against this, the Prophet's stand will reflect the general thoughts of the readers and if I am reading the signs right, in the long run there will be people who will be supportive of seeing things getting done, regardless of the methods."

Dorcas digested all of this. _The long run._ The words sounded ominous. Her mind alighted on a thought then she hesitated for a moment. "The Prophet's monopoly of the industry will have a big effect on this."

"Yes. And we have people looking into that, which," Tutela gave her a meaningful stare, "is beyond what you need to know at this point. As for Crouch, he remembers the war with Grindewald vividly, hence his decision. Are you aware of the implications of this?"

_That not just Death Eaters but also twitchy aurors with fast mouths could get me killed, too. _Dorcas opted for a more professional answer. "It means that the danger of my getting killed increases now that both the Aurors and Voldemort's supporters could use the spells."

"Are you familiar with them, Meadowes?"

"We took them up theoretically in Defense Class. The Cruciatus Curse Voldemort cast during the summons was the first time I've seen any of the three." Her Defense professor had given them lurid descriptions of the results of the three spells, the horrors of which had increased in the telling because their said professor kept on waving around his horribly scarred arm. His only arm.

"Then you are in a position to learn them. Defend yourself, Meadowes, if need be. Use the Unforgivables if it will save your life."

Dorcas didn't know if she agreed with Tutela's answer, but she nodded anyway.

Surprisingly, Tutela gave her the rest of the day off which Dorcas used to sleep off her exhaustion.

8888

The summons came early in the evening, with Regulus passing by her apartment. The portkey he produced brought them to narrow corridor, flanked and roofed by granite. The corridor was quite low and Regulus had to bow slightly to avoid hitting his head.

After traversing what seemed like a long stretch of endless stone, they were faced by a wooden door carved with an intricate design of entwined snakes.

"Mobilus," Regulus said.

Slowly, the snakes disentangled themselves, hissing and slithering before finally settling on both sides of the doorjamb.

The door opened into a cavernous hall with a high wooden ceiling and dark stone walls similar to that of the corridor. The room was filled; all of them in robes, their faces covered with the mask that Dorcas had grown to revile. Some of the robed figures were dueling. Others were practicing spells. To their left was a group huddled over a long table littered with parchment and books. In the more shadowy corners, couples were paired off and were engaged in more private activities, unmindful of their surroundings.

At another corner was a stone fireplace big enough for ten men to stand inside, but housed half a dozen cauldrons, simmering all at the same time. In front of this corner was a table, impressive in its size, covered by potion ingredients, scales and tomes. A single person prowled this area, engrossed in his work.

Dorcas tried to recognize the people in the room, seeing if she could add to their list of confirmed Death Eaters. Some were familiar enough from hours of training, but she was sure that the Order and the Division would be interested to know that Voldemort has a potions master. A potions master would mean possible poison attacks and offensive potions as well as healing potions and Veritaserum available to the Death Eaters.

She made a quick estimate of the number of people. There were easily fifty and those were only counting the supporters in the hall at that moment. There would be others since the Death Eaters were actively recruiting. The Order was easily outnumbered and parts of the Ministry were blissfully unaware of the extent of the situation.

What caught Dorcas' attention was the dais at the far end of the room. Sitting on a chair hewn from stone was Voldemort. His face was impassive, but his eyes darted from group to group, completely aware of everything around him.

She was certain that Voldemort knew the instant she and Regulus stepped into the hall.

A man detached himself from the group surrounding the table covered with parchment and headed in their direction. From the stride and the usual telltale cane, Dorcas recognized Lucius Malfoy.

"Black. Ms. Meadowes. Come. The master is pleased with the events of yesterday." He directed them towards the dais with a grand gesture.

"Master." Lucius prostrated himself. Dorcas and Regulus knelt on the ground and bowed.

Voldemort eyed them inscrutably. "You have finally brought them to me, Lucius."

A wizard at his side approached Voldemort. From where she stood, despite the covering mask and hood, Dorcas could see the wizard's nails, long and black and could smell a rank odor on him.

"There are still other matters we should talk about, Master." The unclean wizard said.

"I have dismissed you already." Then without warning: "_Cruciatus._"

The wizard fell to the ground, snarling while Voldemort watched with an impassive expression on his face. Dorcas was grateful for her mask, which covered the trail of sweat down her face and the trembling of her lips. The spell lasted for a minute before Voldemort lazily lifted his wand. "We are finished with that at the moment, Greyback."

Greyback smartly bowed his way out.

"Come forward, Black, Meadowes."

Dorcas prostrated herself next to Regulus.

_Not much of a choice, now is there._

"You are truly my loyal servants for your services last night was invaluable to my cause."

"It is our honor to serve you, Master." Dorcas said, her voice shaking slightly.

Voldemort peered at them over steepled fingers and Dorcas could feel his scrutiny on her, testing her loyalty, analyzing her possible motives.

"What I promise to my children, I give them. That is the lesson that our friend Greyback here has failed to understand. He continued to harp me for things that is not yet his time to receive and for that, he was punished accordingly. As for the two of you, your act last night shall be rewarded."

He swept down on them from the dais and approached Regulus. "Your family must be proud of you, Regulus Black. Raise your arm."

Out of the corner of her eye, Dorcas watched while Regulus shakily lifted his arm and was comforted by the shared nervousness. Long spidery fingers touched his bare forearm and a burning sound like the crackling of paper in a fireplace was succeeded by a wrenching scream. Dorcas was paralyzed. She tried to take comfort in the fact that around them, the other Death Eaters continued to watch with some interest but not alarm. Regulus may not be her favorite person, but she thought nobody deserved to feel that much pain.

The sound of fabric dragging on the ground alerted her of Voldemort's presence in front of her even before he commanded her to lift her own arm.

"Dorcas Meadowes. The prodigal child has finally returned. Your parents were given a chance to join me, but the fools disagreed quite vocally. So I decided that perhaps it was time to give them what they deserved. You have been welcomed to the fold only because you are descended from one of the oldest wizarding families"

_Give them what they deserved_.

Dorcas tried to control the anger she felt and refrained from raising her head.

_Don't look into his eyes, he is an Occulumens._

"You have proven yourself by saving my Death Eaters and by helping with the summoning of the inferi, which is why I have allowed you to be included in my circle, but you have yet to forward my cause. We will see what you can do. But as of now I am satisfied. Raise your arm."

Woodenly, Dorcas obeyed while keeping her eyes to the ground.

A searing pain tore through her arm, radiating to the rest of her body. She tore her gaze from the floor and looked at where Voldemort touched her forearm; she saw a black circular burn, the diameter of a wand, grow and expand and the pain was magnified proportionally as well.

Just as quickly, the searing pain stopped replaced by a dull ache not only on her arm but in her entire body. She cradled the arm, turning it face up to avoid touching the fabric of her robes. In the middle of her forearm was the image of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

And it was sneering at her.

* * *

There were no signs, but Sirius knew that this was a club, based on the number of drunk people by the door. Most of the patrons moving in and out were wearing dark shirts, ripped up jeans and loads of leather. 

It looked like a place he would go to, or rather, the kind of place he used to go to, when he had first graduated. He used to hit the pubs and bars and got pissed on a regular basis. Then the politics started heating up, more so than when they were in Hogwarts, and with the increase in tension came a decline in his partying.

Remus, on the other hand, wasn't the partying type, and finding him in a place like this set off warning bells in the back of Sirius' mind.

He dropped by the Lupin's house earlier that evening and was again greeted by Remus' parents who said that Remus was supposed to be out with James, Peter and himself. A few minutes into the conversation and Sirius was under the impression that on the nights Remus wasn't with the Marauders or his parents was spent on this very secret activity.

The very secret activity, it turned out, was frequenting werewolf clubs. A few Auror class tracking spells that Sirius had learned during his stunted training, had revealed Remus' location. Since he couldn't go in after Remus without being found out, Sirius spent the evening waiting for Remus to leave the club so he could enter and question the people on Remus' agenda.

He spotted Remus exit unobtrusively, with the collar of his coat pulled up and his head bent low. Had he not been waiting for Remus, he probably wouldn't have recognized him, since his friend opted for black hair- _his Black hair_- instead of the usual brown. From this distance, Sirius couldn't tell what color Remus changed his eyes into, but he was certain that it had been altered with the same spells Remus used on his hair.

_If it's gray, I'm going to be bloody pissed._

The secrecy and the disguise increased Sirius suspicions and he watched Remus walk three blocks down, fighting the impulse to go after his friend, before he regained enough control of his temper to focus on what he was supposed to be doing.

He ducked from the low awning he was sheltering under and approached the entrance. He tried to look impassive as the guy guarding the door, who could almost rival Hagrid in girth, flexed his muscles and looked him up and down.

Only two kinds of people were allowed in this particular club- werewolves and people tough enough to handle their own in a room full of werewolves. Sirius supposed he looked "bad" enough since _Beefy_ just raised his chin and waved him through.

Smoke hung low in the club, a combination of a fog machine and the heavy smoking. Together with the dim lights, it served well in hiding faces and Sirius supposed that was done on purpose since identities were probably the most valuable of things in the place. From the corner tables and the alcoves on the second level overlooking the dance floor, he could feel eyes following his progress.

He headed for an empty stool near the end of the full bar. The moment Sirius perched himself there, he understood why it was empty. It was right next to the loo. To him, the smell was unbearable; he could only imagine what it would be like for a werewolf with a heightened sense of smell.

He lifted a cigarette to his lips and fished around his coat pockets for the muggle lighter he carried around. He was fond of the damn ingenious things, if only they weren't so difficult to misplace.

"Need a light for that?" Asked the bartender. The gravely voice that seemed to come from deep in the earth didn't suit him.

"I have my wand." Sirius answered, giving up on the lighter and reaching for his wand. He nodded towards the drink the person next to him was having. He sized bartender up, wondering if he was the talkative kind.

The bartender reached out a hand and covered Sirius'. Sirius watched the long, spider like hands curl limply over his own. "Ain't a smart move in here laddie. Them wolves don't like magic, but I reckon some of them are magic. Oppressors, what them call us wizards." The bartender fished under the bar for something then raised triumphantly a match booklet. He held a lighted match out to Sirius who cupped his hand around the flame and lit his cigarette.

The bartender wasn't a werewolf either and it surprised Sirius that he survived this long in close proximity with strange werewolves without being bitten. Although, Sirius reckoned the werewolves were human long enough to realize that it isn't smart to bite the hand that feeds you- or in this case, the hand that serves the drinks.

A space cleared up a little further up the bar and the bartender motioned for Sirius to transfer away from the noxious spot by the loo.

In his new stool, Sirius noticed that the bartender hovered near him. "Magic don't come here alone. Not even them WCU people. Well, sometimes the rookies. The bloody ones with balls or no brains." The bartender smiled, revealing a serious lack of most of his front teeth. "I reckon you're the kind with both."

The Werewolf Capture Unit was authorized to operate only during instances of werewolf attacks. Trailing werewolves into clubs like these was an infringement on their rights; but something that the ministry regularly turns a blind eye to.

"Not WCU." Sirius explained. "I'm supposed to meet a friend here but I ran a little late. Now I don't know if he's been here but left or if he's still coming." Then feigning a look of dawning comprehension, Sirius added. "Maybe you've seen my friend."

Sirius' little act must have confirmed the bartender's theory that only people with no brains would enter a werewolf club and he bought the performance wholeheartedly. He seemed more than willing to help the only other non-werewolf in the place with the same kind of camaraderie a foreigner feels when he meets a fellow countryman in a distant land.

"What's the chap look like?"

"About so tall," Sirius raised his right hand, estimating Remus' height, "patched coat, creases round the eyes and forehead, black hair."

"Aye. We got 'im here a couple times a week. Talks to a few 'er then heads to a table. Usually 'at one." Sirius eyes followed the bartender's finger to one of the darkened alcoves on the second floor. "Your friend with them, what do they call themselves, freedom fighters?"

"Freedom fighters?"

"Yeah, like the chaps in Bristol. That big hullabaloo on equal rights. The others. They come 'er together with the big stinking werewolf. The one that ain't like to brush his fangs." The bartender snorted at his own joke before continuing. "Anti-wizarding, more like. Scared the willies outa me after tha AKs all over the papers."

Sirius digested all of this. He was all for werewolf rights, but given Emmeline's information, there was some connection between the werewolf rights movement and Voldemort. He pondered the implications of Remus taking an interest in all of this without telling them. But then, Dumbledore did ask Remus to investigate among the werewolves.

He would have to discuss this with James.

* * *

Dorcas woke up and found herself half lying on her couch with her Death Eater robes still on. Her head was pounding and her back felt sore. A sour taste filled her mouth, like various acids accumulated there and her lips felt dry and cottony. She raised her head, groping for her wand and tried to make out the time in the darkness, but a wave of nausea gripped her. She lowered her head gingerly before everything turned black. 

Dorcas opened her eyes to sunlight streaming through her half drawn curtains. She closed her eyes against the brightness, then opened them again and squinted. She prayed that the thing poking her side was her wand. It was. With a feeble wave of the wand, the communicating speculums dropped to her hands.

"Black." Her voice was scratchy and her lips cracked with the word.

Nothing.

"Black." She tried speaking louder, swallowing hard then regretting it when the sour taste filled her mouth.

"Meadowes?" Sirius, appearing on the other side, asked resignedly. "What is..." The sight of her stopped him short. Worry lines appeared on his forehead. "You don't look- What happened to you?"

Dorcas was feeling lightheaded. "I'm fine. Tell Dumbledore I know... Death Eaters summoned... Lucius... Dark Mark... With Regulus..." She raised her forearm to the mirror so that Sirius could see the Mark. "Voldemort touches... summons..."

The mirror dropped from her hand and landed on the throw rug with a heavy thud. But Dorcas didn't notice because she had blacked out.

* * *

AN: I know I mentioned that this would be hopefully finished by June but the way things are going, it looks unlikely. mea culpa. But I'll try to update at least every other week, at most once a week, hopefully (crossing fingers). Check out my authors page for updates, reviewer responses and thoughts, although I don't really have anything about LC on there right now.

Hope to hear from you guys. (shameless begging for reviews) :D


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

* * *

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Sixteen**

A faint humming filled the air, the melody of an oldie that her mother used to sing along to. For a moment, Dorcas felt like she was ten years old. It was a Saturday morning again and her mother was seated once more at the kitchen counter singing along with the Wizarding Wireless; her father was making breakfast in the kitchen, his movements in time with the tempo of her mother's song.

_But my parents are gone._

Dorcas felt a deep throb in her chest, which jarred her out of her sleep. Opening one eye, and then the other, she looked around her room for the source of the humming and spotted another familiar figure.

"Madame Pomfrey."

The healer turned around at the sound of her voice. She reached into her robe for a wand and waved it in the direction of the window, where a silver streak burst forth. Once that was done, Madame Pomfrey felt for her temperature. "You are finally up, young lady. And no fever."

Dorcas tried to sit up in bed, and aside from the ache in the back of her neck, found that she felt fine. The memory of blacking out, then further back the meeting came to mind and Dorcas gazed down at her forearm. Standing starkly against her skin was the ugly tattoo, the skull with the snake slithing tirelessly up and down her arm.

"I have to talk to Dumbledore." Dorcas announced, standing up and searching around for her wand. Madame Pomfrey held her firmly by the shoulders and directed her back to bed.

"Ms. Meadowes, the Headmaster has already been here, has seen that tattoo and he has already been informed that you are up."

Realizing that there was no arguing with the healer, Dorcas leaned back against the headboard and sighed.

"Madame Pomfrey, thank you."

Then she asked what the question that has been bothering her since the moment she woke up. "How long have I been out?"

"Mr. Black found you two days ago but the Headmaster suspects that you have been drifting in and out of consciousness for three days."

She'd been out for three days. A lot could happen in three days. Althea Tutela would know where to find her, because the Division Head had a pretty powerful tracking spell on all of the Division's Unspeakables, but she would not know the specifics of what had happened to Dorcas. Somebody needed to inform Tutela of what happened. She also needed to explain everything to Dumbledore.

"Has anything happened?"

"I am certain that the Headmaster and Mr. Black are both in a better position to tell you about the things you wish to know."

Dorcas started sitting up again in bed and Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at her struggle. Dorcas ceased immediately.

"Madame Pomfrey, who's taking care of the children in Hogwarts since you're here?"

"Oh, tosh, I go back and forth. I don't stay here all the time. Somebody has to mend all of those broken bones. It's nearing the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor again and a lot of _accidents _seem to happen these days." Madame Pomfrey gave her a meaningful smile.

Dorcas returned her smile but it felt strained. "You shouldn't keep on coming back. Especially now that I'm awake. It's not exactly safe to keep on returning to my place."

The healer tutted against her protests. "I have enough protection from Black and the Headmaster as my escort."

"Unless you have some doubts as to my ability as an escort, Dorcas." The voice of Dumbledore said from her doorway.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Dorcas greeted. She hadn't realized how stressed she was until she felt the weight on her shoulder disappear at the appearance of the Headmaster.

"How are you feeling, Dorcas?"

"A little sore, but all in all, fine."

"That's good to hear." Dumbledore gave her a sad smile and moved to her side. Raising his wand, he conjured up a squashy armchair in the air, which landed with a soft thud by her bedside.

Madame Pomfrey nodded in their direction. "I'll be off then, Albus. I'm quite certain the ongoing Gryffindor-Slytherin war would have a new set of casualties."

Once they were alone, Dumbledore turned to Dorcas. "I am terribly sorry about this, Dorcas but as much as I want you to rest some more, we have to talk about what happened to you and about the circumstances that led to your having that unusual brand on your arm."

Dorcas steeled herself for the telling, emotionally detaching herself from the event, just as she had been taught to do so during her Incolumitas Division training and mechanically recited the events of that night. She described what she could make out from the tasks of the masked Death Eaters, the appearance of Voldemort's lair, then the branding with the Dark Mark.

At the end of the telling, Dumbledore had his hands steepled in front of his face, his eyes focused on something only he could see. Then Dumbledore looked deeply into her eyes.

"Is that all that happened Dorcas?"

"Yes, Professor." Dorcas paused to organize her thoughts then continued. "Professor Dumbledore, remember days ago about the summoning of the Inferi. There hasn't been any news yet about that, has there?"

"I'm afraid Dorcas, that there hasn't been any sighting yet of the Inferi, which is actually good news."

"Professor, I have never encountered in my time with the Incolumitas or in my readings how the Inferi are summoned. Are four wizards really necessary?"

"It is understandable that you have never encountered anything about the Inferi, as their summoning is a part of ancient magic, purposely abandoned a long time ago because of the degree of destruction that they can bring. There are powerful wizards in the Department of Mysteries studying these things. However this is not relevant to the here and now." Dumbledore steepled his fingers once more then paused for a moment. "The summoning of Inferi requires a lot of magic. Usually, a single wizard could do it if he wishes to summon only a few. But based on the story you conveyed to Sirius that night, and what he subsequently conveyed to me, the additional three wizards plus the one performing the spell were needed to provide enough magic to be able to summon that many inferi."

"Now Dorcas, I have seen Inferi being summoned before, during the time of Grindewald, and that much power is only necessary if Voldemort wishes to have these Inferi under his control a considerable length of time." Dumbledore stopped then looked at her astutely. "However, I can see that there is something else bothering you."

Dorcas hesitated. Her Incolumitas training had taught her that her emotions were best kept out of any kind of business and best dealt with, when she was alone. She knew from experience that emotions left the mind biased and tended to cloud judgment and prevent efficient action.

Making up her mind, Dorcas pushed down her doubts and shook her head.

Dumbledore gazed at her with his piercing blue eyes, the lines of his face deepening slightly. "My child, it is my concern to see to the well being of the members of the Order whether physically and sometimes, more importantly, emotionally. What is on your mind, Dorcas?"

"It's not really a question." Dorcas began. "Professor, I feel as if I'm not doing enough for the Order. I mean, I'm supposed to be giving information so that lives could be saved. So far people have been dying and everything I've passed on seems useless."

Dumbledore reached forward then patted her hand. "I was expecting that you would wish to discuss this. Because you have been through quite a lot, I tend to forget that you are very young, Dorcas. I tend to forget about that with a number of the Order members, it seems."

Dorcas mulled this over and realized that indeed over half of the Order members were less than forty, very very young by wizarding standards.

"I understand your misgivings Dorcas, however, you are doing enough for the Order. We may not have been able to stop the summoning of the Inferi, but at least we are informed in advance that Voldemort is using them. Before any of the Order members go into battle, they will be armed with that knowledge, which might make the difference between life and death."

"Also, Dorcas, think about the things that you've informed us of. We now know that a definite way to identify Death Eaters is through the mark, whereas before, we had to rely on eye-witness accounts. We also have an estimate of the number of Death Eaters, at least the ones that Voldemort allows into his headquarters. We also know of a potion master, someone who could provide Voldemort by means of herbs and concoctions certain abilities that spells could not. However I do have a request in this regard, if you would be so kind as to oblige me. I wish that you do not mention to James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin or Peter Pettigrew of this. As well as refrain from mentioning to them who we suspect this person is.

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Of course, going back Dorcas. All of these things you have told me will save lives in the future, because we will go into battle prepared."

Dorcas closed her eyes. She did not feel any better, despite the explanation. She understood logically what Dumbledore was expressing, but she could not help how she felt. Every time, the image of the Loweses would flash in her mind, together with the other images that had been in the newspapers.

* * *

Sirius took a cigarette out of the pack to while away his boredom, adjusted his position against the craggy stone wall he was leaning against and did another visual sweep of the street. He'd been standing watch in the small alleyway for four hours now, observing the comings and goings of the residents along Dorcas Meadowes' street and trying to make sure there weren't any strangers among the usual street traffic.

It had started to smell under James' invisibility cloak on his second stick, but now that he had finished the pack, he no longer noticed the scent. James would kill him, though, if he returned the cloak smelling like a seedy bar and added having the cloak laundered to his mental list of things to do.

The cloak was a needed precaution. Since Crouch's proclamation a few days ago about legalizing Auror use of the Unforgivables, every mission suddenly became doubly dangerous. Even Order missions sometimes seemed suspicious and a rookie Auror may misjudge a situation and fire a few Avada Kedavras first.

Sirius watched Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey exit the house and move to the secluded street corner, which had become their unofficial Disapparition point. Aside from that, there was no street activity, so he allowed his mind to wonder a bit. He began a slow contemplation of the events of the past few days.

The night that Dorcas had contacted him about the Inferi, she appeared collected, and had it not been for the frantic look in her eyes, he would have thought that she was not affected by the news. The composure that Dorcas seemed to always have, gnawed on his nerves and put him on edge. Nobody should be that unemotional; it was unnatural. But that seemed how she was.

That was why, the succeeding time Dorcas called him talking about a mark, he took one look at her and knew that something was wrong. Her eyes had been glassy, her hair matted against her scalp and her face was flushed- the appearance of someone with a high fever. And she had been incoherent, slipping in and out of consciousness.

He did the first thing he could think of- he contacted Dumbledore. The headmaster gave him Dorcas' address and ordered him to take James and Apparate at her house. One of them stood watch while the other assessed what the problem was. Dumbledore followed with potions from a healer.

It took both his and James' combined skills to break into the wards surrounding Dorcas' house even if they did have Dumbledore's instructions on how to go about it. James was suitably impressed, and even if Sirius didn't want to admit it, so was he.

They had found her unconscious and half lying on her couch on the living room, the communicating speculum gripped limply in her hand.

They brought her to the bedroom and ran a couple of diagnostic spells. James volunteered to inform Dumbledore of Dorcas' status and to stand guard outside of the apartment. That left the diagnostic spells and the nursing to Sirius, who would know how to do them since his contracted Auror training would have required him to learn them.

Sirius levitated Dorcas down the corridor into what he assumed was the direction of her bedroom. It was only when he turned down her covers and had her lying comfortably in bed did he notice the awkwardness of the situation. Good first aid dictated that he should change her sweat-drenched clothes and Sirius tried to look beyond the strangeness of the situation to work efficiently. He went through her drawers mechanically, looking for suitable clothes to change into. Then turning his back towards Dorcas, he threw a few disrobing, cleaning and dressing spells successively over his shoulder.

When he studied his spell work, he tried not to focus on the badly aimed spells and the barely covered body parts- that if he had any decency, would try not to stare at. Sirius then ran his wand over her, muttering a few spells. His wand emitted a steady dull blue light, turning red in places where there was injury. The wand turned red near Dorcas' forehead, indicating her fever, and probably, Sirius guessed, a really bad headache. The rest of the sweep kept the indicating light a blue color until Sirius reached Dorcas' left forearm.

That was when Sirius saw Dorcas' Dark Mark for the first time. All of a sudden, her strange plea made sense. Dorcas had said something about Voldemort using this tattoo to summon his followers, which meant that the Mark had some form of locator spell on it so that the followers could find Voldemort when he called. He wondered if it can work in reverse and that Voldemort could use it to find his followers.

He bent over the tattoo, studying the spellwork involved in it, when his light touch caused Dorcas to shout out in pain while remaining oblivious to her surroundings. The thought of Regulus probably going through the same thing was something that Sirius refused to deal with at the time, concentrating first on the situation at hand. After informing James of Dorcas condition, he searched for some healing potions and found some in one of the kitchen cupboards. He had to practically force-feed the potions, most of which ended up on his very expensive shirt.

By the time Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey arrived and had dismissed him, Sirius practically bit their heads off, stomped out of the room and growled: _I'm not a bloody babysitter_. He had, however, lowered Dorcas' temperature.

He and James alternately stood guard outside Dorcas' house and in his down time, Sirius tried looking for his brother. The care that he had given Dorcas was something he preferred to have done for his Regulus. He even went so far as to stand outside of 12 Grimmauld Place.

No matter what time he went there, the light in the uppermost room facing West- Regulus' room- never went out and Sirius knew that his brother was being cared for. By the house elves, most likely. He couldn't imagine his mother forcing down a potion that could end up on her brocade dressing gown.

Yet standing out there, Sirius was torn between pain for his brother's suffering and anger at being able to provide some form of care for somebody else but not his brother. He ached; the deep clenching pain in the vicinity of his chest had become one of the few constants in the war.

Movement across the street brought him out of his reverie. It was James entering Dorcas' house, walking deliberately. It was very subtle, and somebody who does not know James would not have spotted it. It seemed as if James was avoiding walking into somebody. After a few minutes, he saw James exit and head for his hiding place in the alleyway.

Once safely in the darkened crevice, James spoke in a low voice. "Padfoot, take a break, I'll stay here for a while. Anything interesting happen?"

"No."

Sirius saw James give a small imperceptible nod. "So it was just the two oafs last night then. It scares me that the Death Eaters aren't that thorough."

Sirius gave a small grunt in reply. It's never smart to talk while under an invisibility cloak.

James was speaking again. "We'll exit through the back of the alley, Pads, where we'll switch the cloaks. Then you can return the long way to the street and rest a bit in Dorcas' house."

* * *

Dumbledore had left an hour earlier and Dorcas had begun the motions of getting her life back in order. She had taken a shower and changed her clothes and was about to start cleaning up when she heard a knock on her door.

James Potter had given her a warm smile. "I'm glad you're awake. You look better."

Dorcas was taken aback. She could count the number of conversations she had with Potter in one hand and all of them had been about business. Yet here he was making small talk as if she were some Gryffindor he hadn't seen in ages.

A far cry from the arrogant Quidditch champ she remembered from school.

_Lily Evans must be an exceptionally good influence._

Strangers usually made Dorcas present an empty smile, but James' seemed genuinely concerned for her. Besides, they were in the Order together and during her illness he had probably seen her in her skivvies. He was also the one who started the small talk. Feeling humbled, she gave a warm smile that matched his own. "Barring the headache, which the potion Madame Pomfrey gave me has reduced to a dull thud, I'm quite fine."

"That's wonderful to hear. Not the headache, of course." James said sheepishly.

Dorcas' smile deepened.

"Well, if you're feeling better then..." James trailed off and seemed to motion to the empty corridor behind him. There was a soft swoosh and the air shimmered for a moment.

Then Dorcas found herself looking at hazel eyes, quite like her own, and found herself in a rib-crushing hug.

Dorcas was caught between a laugh and a cry, and ended up shaking instead. She could feel more than hear Darcy's laughter.

Once she could breathe again, she looked for James, who had moved into the corridor to give them some privacy.

"Thank you."

James shrugged. "Dumbledore's orders."

Dorcas felt her eyes well up and blinked them a few times. She wasn't one to show her emotions easily, but she was moved by the selflessness this man and his friend. They had found her when she thought she would die alone, nursed her back to health, and- according to Dumbldore- took care of the security outside of her apartment.

"That's not what I meant, you know that." She said softly. "Tell Sirius, thank you, too."

James cleared his throat, pushed his glasses uncomfortably up his nose and gave her look that said, _you're a good sort_, then left the sisters.

8888

"Isn't the older sister supposed to be the responsible one," Darcy began, the twinkle now back in her eyes.

Dorcas bit back her grin. "Ten minutes, Darcy. I'm older by ten minutes." She recognized immediately the change in Darcy's expression. Darcy had just grilled her on everything that happened since they last saw each other and once the younger twin had ascertained that Dorcas was physically well and as emotionally well as she could be, she had returned to her favorite pastime of teasing Dorcas.

"Ten minutes or ten years, it's all the same. Older is older. Just admit it, you've been out partying all night, maybe had a few butterbeers and a few- you know. Did you a world of good, right?"

"You're a riot." Dorcas said dryly. "And butterbeers are hardly alcoholic."

Darcy ignored her and plowed on. "You have to be careful. Besides, what did I tell you about going to the after the after party party?"

"That the lager's cold, the guys are hot and the hangover's worth it?"

"Of course not! That it's dangerous."

"Well, I reckoned it sounded like you, especially the one about the hot guys."

Darcy laughed loudly. "I'm just glad you're well enough to make jokes. Even lousy ones."

Dorcas smirked at the last bit. "If you're glad, imagine how I feel."

Once the desire to tease each other subsided, Darcy enveloped Dorcas in another hug. She'd been doing that a lot in the span of a few minutes, Dorcas noticed. It was as if Darcy couldn't believe that Dorcas was still alive.

"It's going to get better, won't it, Cassie?"

Dorcas hugged her sister tighter and closed her eyes. It was like being seven again and Darcy had run into her room, insisting that a monster was hiding under her bed. Dorcas had her own monster in the closet but she pushed her own fears aside and comforted her sister.

"Yes, it would." Dorcas reassured her with a certainty that she did not feel. "It should, with everybody working on making it better. You should see the people Dumbledore invited to join his group, Darcy. Some of the most powerful witches and wizards out there."

"I don't care if they have enough magic to turn all the oceans into butterbeer. It's not the outcome of this war that I'm worried about." Darcy whispered burying her face into Dorcas' shoulder. "When it gets too dangerous, I want you to hide, keep yourself safe. I know you, Cas, you'll put other people before you. But don't do that, just save yourself first."

"Oh honey, you know I can't do that. If we hide instead of fight, then they have won. If we stand down instead of face those who are doing these injustices, then we deserve the situation, no matter how wretched it is. This is the right thing to do. This is my place in the war, Darcy."

Darcy pulled away from the embrace, her voice trembling. "Then what about my place? How come you insist that I hide instead of fight? I'm sure I could do something. I doubt I'm the only squib in the world who gives a damn."

"Because it's not your war, Darcy. And even if you do gather information, our parents' reputation has made you a very important target. Being muggle, you won't be able to defend yourself!" Dorcas said, her words becoming clipped. "You're not going out there and get yourself killed because you need to fulfill some ideal. Lives always takes precedence over the cause."

Dorcas watched as her sister turned towards the window.

Very softly, Darcy said. "You're being hypocritical. Isn't that what you are doing? Choosing the cause over your life. What makes my life more important than yours that you can sacrifice yours and not mine."

Dorcas reached out and took her sister's hand, waiting for Darcy to meet her eyes. The accusation in her sister's eyes hurt, but she knew that it was valid. "Call me high-handed. Say I'm wrong. Argue with me all you want. But don't enter this war. I know it's not rational so don't ask me for my reasons. But Darcy, I need you to survive this. I need to know that you'll live after this war, that what I'm fighting for isn't in vain. It's knowing that you're safe that keeps me sane."

Darcy collapsed against her for another embrace.

"It's just not fair, Cassie."

"I know." Darcy was crying freely now, and Dorcas realized, so was she.

Dorcas wished that there was some way that she could make this right for her sister. Yet this was a long way from the monsters in the closet or the threats that Darcy used to receive when they visited Diagon Alley. Dorcas had learned a long time ago that there were things that she could not fix, despite her good intentions and her best efforts.

True to her nature, it was Darcy who recovered first from the emotional moment. The twinkle in her eye was a signal for Dorcas to prepare herself for the joke that was certainly coming. "You do know you misquoted me. What I said was that the lager's cold, the guys are hot and the hangover's worth it_ as long as you remember who you spread your legs for all night._"

Dorcas swatted a laughing Darcy's head. "Mum and Dad are rolling over in their graves right now."

* * *

Sirius watched from just outside the door, carefully keeping himself hidden among the shadows. Dorcas, for the first time since he met her, was talking animatedly.

He had seen how she interacted with the other people in the Order and even with Remus, whom she had been acquainted with, and she had always been restrained and professional. Even in the brief interactions with him, she had been the one who was coolly impersonal, while he was always in a full blown rage. It had scared him, that someone could be so unfeeling; it was unnatural. The only other time he saw her display some emotion, was when he argued with her. And that was anger, which was an easy emotion to express.

But with this spiky haired woman, her sister, Dorcas looked different. She was gesturing emphatically with her hands and her tinkling laugh erupted frequently and unexpectedly.

When the conversation turned serious, he knew that he should turn away and give the two some privacy. But something kept him standing outside that door and he couldn't bear not to listen.

He finally understood Dorcas' motivations in this war and he felt his distrust vanish.

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews!  
I've never had any success with keeping to a posting schedule for LC but I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that I could push through with this one. I want to try posting at least every other week on either a Saturday or a Sunday, which means the next chapter should be up on the 17th or the 18th.  
Check my authors page for updates, reviewer responses and ideas. 


	19. Reminisces 3:I Turn Back the Clocks

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Reminisces 3: At Night I Turn Back the Clocks**

In the few days of staying in Remus' house, the two of them fell into a routine of working in the daytime and having tea together in the afternoons. Remus was used to drinking his tea while still working on his researches but he soon figured out that Sirius found their teatime conversations therapeutic and couldn't begrudge him that simple gesture.

Sirius finished his tea then swirled the dregs a bit. It all looked like shapeless lumps to him.

"Remus, do you think Harry will be fine. Would I be able to..."

"Don't tell me you saw something in that teacup and now you're worried." Remus said dryly. But his humor was lost on a brooding Sirius.

"It's just..." Sirius clenched his teeth. "Everything I touch, falls apart. Dorcas, Regulus, James and Lily. And now I have Harry. You're right, what you said before. Maybe I do think of James and not of Harry. What if..."

"You'll be fine with Harry." Remus said with a small smile. "And you seem to forget the little matter of Peter. We're spent quite an inordinate amount of time debating whose fault it is, when outright, it was Peter who made the wrong choice."

Yet even as Remus said it, Sirius could see that he didn't believe it. Neither of them did. Privately, each of them shouldered the blame willingly. What if they had done this or done that. It was a dangerous game to play with one's conscience.

Sirius voice was bitter. "_It is my fault._ Cassie, Reg, James, Lily. And you. With Snape. I almost got you..."

_To kill Snape. I almost turned you into a murderer._

The unfinished sentence, an echo of a long ago conversation, hung ominously between them.

Sirius felt self-revulsion well up. His eyes were stinging but remained dry; his voice was toneless. "I didn't even bother thinking about how you would feel about that. How your life would change because of that."

He had an ocean of guilt to live with. And like the ocean, the waters of guilt ebbed and flowed with the memories, retreating with the happiest of thoughts, slowly seeping in with the loneliest, but the waters never dry out.

"Remus, was it that act of thoughtlessness that made you think I was the traitor."

It was done. They had talked about it before and even then Remus' compassion had purged him, but he returned to the memory, in Azkaban, again and again. He watched Remus' expression and found that there was no pity. Pain, yes. And love.

"That's where you're wrong, Sirius. It was because of that incident that made it difficult for me to believe that you betrayed James and Lily. After that time, you became more cautious. You rarely did anything without contemplating the consequences."

Remus' voice cracked. "But I accepted you being a traitor after the fact, even if I couldn't reconcile it with what I knew about you, because there was no other option. No other explanation."

He wished that Remus would lash out at him so that he would have a reason, a good reason to succumb to the guilt, then finally the numbness of apathy. Remus' quiet acceptance of his faults burned him more than a condemnation. He didn't expect anything less from Remus, but it was still painful.

Remus let out a sigh. "Padfoot, enough of this brooding business. You'll do fine with Harry. Regardless of what you see in the cursed tea leaves. You didn't even take Divination."

Sirius saw that Remus was trying so hard to make him feel better. Donning on the most lighthearted expression he could muster, he said, "Cursed tea leaves? Mate, who are you, the Weasley girl? She can probably mouth of better than you."

"Pardon me if I never aimed for that particular skill. It wasn't as if they gave N.E.W.T.s for it."

"Cursed is just not a proper cuss word. Not even close to damn or fuck or..." Sirius went on for an impressive length of time.

Remus suppressed the urge to groan. "Maybe that's because_ curse_ is best used to describe a bad spell... Or even this _damnable-_" Remus rolled his eyes when Sirius applauded- "disease."

"As I recall, Emmeline Vance mentioned a solution they use in China."

Remus furrowed his brow. "Did she, I don't seem to rem-" Then he stopped short. A blush worked its way up his cheeks when the incident came to mind.

A very genuine and very evil smile worked its way onto Sirius face. "Lily had a field day with that. What was it, wizards in China believed that castration is the cure to lycanthropy."

Remus gave him an exasperated look. "I'm kind of attached to my er- testicles, thank you very much. And I prefer that they remain attached to me."

Sirius tried to speak around his laughter. "I don't know, Remus, you kind of lost your balls that time when we wanted to get the Marauders' Map back from Filch.

"Excuse me Sirius, I wasn't the imbecile who wanted to get it back _while Filch was there._ I was simply being prudent. Besides, look whose talking. What about the time you backed out of that prank we wanted to do in the Slytherin common room."

"I was merely looking after our reputations. It was hardly unique and completely below our skills. It wouldn't do to be ousted by a few ambitious but amateurish pranksters who feel we're losing our edge." Sirius finished with a flourish. "Hey Moony, remember that time in fifth year when we camped out in the Forbidden Forest? To demonstrate to you the Animagi forms for the first time."

"We returned to the castle with few minutes to spare for Transfiguration exams. We didn't even bother to change our clothes, just took the exams." Remus had a full smile on and was carried away by the telling. "And McGonnagal said, _I don't know what you four did, but you look like you ran with the animals._"

Sirius snorted. "It's too bad she never knew how right on the money she was with that one."

Sirius pondered his tealeaves a little bit more, recalling a strange conversation he had once where a grim and a hippogriff were both mentioned. During that conversation, he had pretended to know a little about Divination.

He returned his teacup to the table dismissing the memory.

"You know Remus, I've talked to most of the Order members on Dumbledore's command but I've been putting off talking to Moody. He hasn't been away from Auror Headquarters."

"I suppose being locked in a trunk for a year tends to do that to you and he may have no desire to leave the company of Aurors for his protection." Remus mused. Then adding dryly: "Balls or no balls, it may not be the smartest thing for you to go up there and talk to him."

"You think so?" Sirius deadpanned.

"You _did_ attempt to lock McGonnagal and Peeves in the same room together." Remus looked at Sirius shrewdly. "I'll talk to Moody, Padfoot."

"I don't want to bother you." Sirius said innocently enough. An invigorating trip to outside of Remus' cottage might do him some good, even if Dumbledore told him to lay low.

"It's _no_ bother." Remus returned steely.

"All right." Sirius responded distractedly, much to Remus' worry.

* * *

**AN:**

Thanks guys for all the reviews for the last chapter. Reviewer responses in my author's page.

The title comes from Mark Strand's Poem.

The idea that castrating a werewolf as a cure for lycanthropy is derived from a little known story I heard about in my country. But instead of a werewolf it was supposed to be for another creature in local mythology- one with a head of a horse and a body of a human, sort of like a reverse centaur.

Next update should be up by July 1 or 2.


	20. Chapter Seventeen

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

* * *

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Seventeen**

Once she recovered, the first thing that Dorcas did was give Althea Tutela a visit. She had sent an owl with a brief on the Death Eaters' meeting and her subsequent branding, but she still needed to fill in the details and receive a new cover.

Dumbledore told her that when the Aurors had reached the Keeper of Prophesies' home, it was already empty. According to Dumbledore, the elderly wizard was placed into hiding by Edgar Bones' group. Dorcas was relieved; even if Gustav was a task-master, he had always been the fair and decent type.

The moment Dorcas apparated into Tutela's office, the enchanted ceiling was the first thing she noticed. Tutela usually had her ceiling imitate exceptional cloud formations or exotic tree bowers but on that day, the ceiling was blank and gray, with spidery cracks and mossy growth in one corner.

Tutela looked tired; her eyes appeared glassy. Dorcas waited, forehead creased, for the Division Head to acknowledge her.

"You're here for a cover." Tutela said, finally looking up from the long parchment that she was filling in. "Stay in your job for a while. Finish what the former Keeper assigned to you, then we'll transfer you to some other Ministry department."

Tutela moved on, asking her about the Dark Mark and the Inferi. Dorcas explained what happened then waited for Tutela's input, only to be told that it was quiet all around, and that she would be informed if anything interesting happened.

Dorcas spent most of the morning updating the record books the prophesies- the task that Gustav had assigned her a week ago- and found herself dozing more than once.

_And they call her job dangerous._

It was mid morning when a familiar, haughty, snowy owl landed on her desk with a note bearing the Black Family crest. A strange feeling of part trepidation and part excitement coursed through Dorcas. After feeding the bird, who decided on giving her a few annoyed pecks just to put Dorcas in her place, she read the note, committed its contents to heart and burned it with the tip of her wand.

888

The sight of the house that they were going to attack stopped Dorcas' heart. She knew the place, having spent weeks of her childhood summers there. The two-story house, with bay windows, turrets and juttings, was owned by the Fawcetts who were friends of her parents. The Fawcetts had trouble conceiving and instead, decided to be parents vicariously by inviting the Medoweses over and spoiling her and Darcy rotten. Then, five years ago, the Fecunditas potion was invented which allowed them to have their three children.

Lucius had kept the identity of the family they were attacking a secret, and until she portkeyed into the garden, she had no idea. With Regulus always with her, there was no chance of informing the Order.

Lucius quickly explained the plan of attack: He signaled for her and Regulus to wait while he disabled the house's wards. Lucius and the other Death Eater were going to apparate into the kitchen, where- according to Death Eater surveillance- the couple was known to spend their evenings. Regulus and Dorcas were to apparate into the second floor landing and attack the children.

Dorcas steeled herself against the thought of Mr. and Mrs. Fawcett's elation when they found out that they could finally have children.

Regulus was positioned slightly to her left, waiting for Lucius' command, as well. Because of the mask, she couldn't see his face, but the line of his body was stiff and tense. She noticed that he favored using his left hand even if he was right handed and she recalled their branding with the Dark Mark.

They saw Lucius discrete hand signal and Disapparated.

The second floor landing was exactly as Dorcas remembered it from all those summers ago. There was the same blue and bronze throw rug that she had tripped on during a game of tag when she was seven. There were the widely spaced banister poles in where Darcy ended up with her head stuck at five. There was Mrs. Fawcett's painting of Hogwarts that she and Darcy spent hours looking at

"Cassie, are you quite all right?" Regulus' concern was evident despite the covering of his mask.

"I'm fine." Dorcas voice sounded choked.

Regulus raised a hand and Dorcas resisted the urge to flinch. Instead of hurting her, he delicately touched her hair.

"It will be over soon," he replied, his voice shaking. "You take that door and I'll take the one at the other end of the corridor."

According to the plan that Lucius explained to them, they were supposed to collect the children and bring them downstairs to the parents. They were to be executed together.

The room Regulus pointed at turned out to be a nursery. Once inside the room, Dorcas closed the door, placed a silencing spell and pulled out her communicating speculum.

"Black."

"Dorcas."

Dorcas could barely make out Sirius' face and almost missed his whispered greeting. The place he was in looked dark, lights were low. Music was playing in the background.

She could see a very feminine arm draped across Sirius and made out James Potter's voice. Sirius turned away from her. She could hear him excusing himself from the group he was with and she waited until he acknowledged her again. Then she gave her instructions and closed the line of communication.

Dorcas reached for the baby boy and the stuffed dragon beside him. She carefully tucked the child in the crook of her arm and covering him as much as possible with her cloak; then she tapped the stuff toy and whispered _Portus._

The Portkey brought her just outside the house where Sirius was already waiting for her. Behind him were James, Remus and Peter. A slight movement to her right caught her attention and she saw members of the Order quietly appearing on the scene, surrounding the house.

She handed the child to Sirius who received the baby awkwardly and fumbled a bit, all the while shooting her a look of disbelief. Dorcas raised her hand to prevent any interruptions. There was no time.

"There will be two Death Eaters downstairs and one upstairs. Four all in all if you count me. We were instructed to bring the children to the kitchen where they will be executed as a family."

Sirius and the rest of the group indicated that they understood.

"Dorcas, keep the speculum open so we can hear you and know when to attack."

Dorcas nodded her assent, turned the stuffed animal into a portkey once more and waited for the tug in the pit of her stomach to return her to the nursery.

Once, Dorcas quickly picked up the rattle inside the crib and headed down the stairs for the kitchen. Regulus was already there when she arrived. The three Death Eaters had surrounded the Fawcett family and had the couple and two girls bound and gagged. They turned around at the sound of her approach and Dorcas saw them gaze at the rattle in her hands.

It was Lucius who spoke first.

"Where's the child?" His voice was harsh. It was the first time she heard Lucius speak without his carefully modulated voice.

"Dead." Dorcas replied, deliberately lowering her voice. She hoped that Mr. and Mrs. F wouldn't recognize her. "He was bawling and wouldn't stop. I got annoyed. Besides, we don't want the neighbors knocking on our door. A simple Avada Kedavra. Then I transfigured him into this." Dorcas tossed the rattle towards the center of the circle.

An anguished cry that even the gag could not suppress, erupted from Mrs. Fawcett.

Dorcas blinked against the wetness in her eyes a few times, grateful for her mask and hood.

_I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Mrs. F._

Even if it was false, the act of having to put the Fawcetts through that left Dorcas feeling cold and it took a great deal of self-restraint not to hex the three Death Eaters.

A loud bang was heard and the front door exploded open. The Avada Kedavra died on Lucius' lips, interrupted by an Expelliarmus that caused his wand to fly into the hands of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The other Death Eater raised his wand and was quickly subdued by three Order members.

Regulus tried disapparating but found himself, much to his dismay, to remain completely solid and in that place.

"Cassie!" Regulus shouted at her, motioning towards the stairs.

Realizing that Disapparition barriers have been set up, both Lucius and Regulus quickly headed for the second floor, probably planning to exit from an upstairs window.

Dorcas bent down to release the bonds of Mrs. Fawcett but was stopped short when she saw her flinch and recoil from her touch. Stiffly, Dorcas straightened up and found herself looking into Lily Evan's eyes.

The Aurors have arrived.

_The east side._ Lily mouthed. Dorcas gave a discrete nod of thanks (which Lily returned) before heading in the direction that Lily advised, knowing that Lily would be in charge of releasing the Fawcetts.

* * *

After leaving his communicating speculum with James, Sirius quickly deposited the child with the Potters and hurried back to the Fawcetts, hoping that he would get a piece of the action. Once he Apparated back, he realized that the Order had already entered the house to counter the Death Eater attack.

He started for the house, anticipating a duel, when a movement at the side of the house caught his attention.

Two people were levitating themselves down from a window.

He could hear Aurors shouting from the same window and calling out spells at the two escaping Death Eaters. With their wands trained, the other Aurors around the perimeter headed towards where the Death Eaters landed. Sirius ran towards the house, wanting to reinforce the circle around the two Death Eaters when something stopped him short.

_Regulus._

The height, the slope of the shoulders, the way he held his head all pointed to the fact that the man behind the mask was his brother.

Sirius ducked back into the shadows; his mind was searching around for a way to get his brother away from the wrong end of an Unforgivable. Sirius knew he could be wrong but he wasn't ready to face the outcome if he was right.

Sirius fumed. It's just that the idiot had to join up and get caught.

Regulus and the other Death Eater were firing curses wildly; they were getting desperate.

A spell hit Regulus, ripping the upper part of his mask and causing a huge gash to appear on his forehead. Sirius watched Regulus stumble a bit as blood trickled into his left eye; Regulus' wand wavered as he called out spells. One of Regulus' badly aimed spells hit an Auror and a large cut appeared across the Auror's chest.

The Aurors looked more annoyed than angry, since the Death Eaters were so obviously outnumbered. Somebody called out Cruciatus, now that it had been authorized for Auror use, and Sirius watched as his brother and the other Death Eater went down briefly in pain. But it seemed as if they were used to the spell, for they recovered quickly and Sirius contemplated what kind of Cruciatus spells they encountered in the past to make the last one as easy as a walk through a Quidditch field.

The Auror who cast the spell, Proudfoot, was red in the face and pissed off because the Death Eaters didn't have the grace to surrender, and a pissed off Auror, Sirius knew, was not in any way a desirable enemy. Especially one who had just been authorized to use the Unforgivables. Sirius knew he had no time to think about reasons and motives. He pointed his wand towards the Aurors.

"Impedimenta."

The spell didn't stop the Aurors; it merely slowed them down. But it was enough for Regulus and whoever was with him to get a head start.

He couldn't stay near the house for too long, because the Aurors might try to find whoever helped the Death Eaters escape, so he Disapparated with a bitter taste in his mouth.

_He had to do it._ He kept on telling himself. _He had no choice._

**

* * *

AN:** The idea of Dorcas "killing" the child then turning him into the rattle comes from GoF where Crouch Jr. kills his father then transfigures his body into a bone.  
Fawcett was a name I picked up from GoF.  
More A/Ns in my author's page.  
Thanks guys for the reviews! Next update should be up by July 15 or 16.


	21. Chapter Eighteen

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

* * *

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Eighteen**

For the second time in Dorcas recollection, the ceiling in Tutela's office was bare, adding to the claustrophobia of the doorless and windowless room. The debriefing was routine and ended early, which gave Dorcas time to visit the other rooms of the Division, something she hasn't done for some time.

Benjy, whom she hasn't seen for months, was nowhere to be found but that wasn't anything surprising since their job usually took them to remote areas of the country.

So she headed for Jillian's little library and found her other friend in the midst of stacks of books and parchment. Part of the intelligence arm of the Division, Jillian was writing down a report entitled: Exploding Potions and Toxins Derived From the Encyclopaedia Herbana: the Availability of Instruction on Development of Dangerous Substances to the Common Wizard and Witch.

"That looks daunting." Dorcas said by way of greeting.

Jillian raised her head and upon seeing Dorcas her surprise turned to relief. She quickly hugged Dorcas then motioned for her to sit. Dorcas perched herself on the edge of the desk.

"Honey, you're better!"

"Does everybody know?" Dorcas asked wearily.

"Just Benjy and me. We were worried. So what happened?"

"Where's Benjy?"

"Mission somewhere. He didn't give me any details but he left yesterday." Jillian waved a hand. "But don't change the topic. What happened to you?"

"Something related to my case. If I tell you I'll have to AK you." Dorcas deadpanned.

"Right." Jillian smirked. "I won't be too nosy."

"Why this?" Dorcas picked up the parchment that Jillian was writing on. "Shouldn't we be focusing on something more concrete?"

"Tutela's orders. Apparently there are small upstart groups, not Death Eaters mind, that are using the info in the Herbana to develop toxins. And you know how common the Herbana is."

"Every household has one," Dorcas replied. "How bad can one or two upstarts get?"

"Well, some are pureblood fanatics but without Death Eater ruthlessness. Some are just rabble-rousers.

"Although, honestly I agree with you, Cas. We should be focusing more on DE activity with the Fawcetts, the Drummonds and the random beatings in Knockturn Alley. So I'm not getting Tutela on this. But then, Tutela's reach can be far and wider than the occulus can see."

Dorcas nodded, pushing down the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Eyeing the heaping stack of books, "do those mean you can't have lunch with me?"

"It's lunch already?" Jillian pulled out her pocket watch. "Give me fifteen minutes to finish this thought. Lunch might be good for me."

8888

The two settled for a table at the back of Wizards' Eats and placed their orders. Once they've given their orders, Jillian launched into a long tale regarding her and Fabian Prewett, ending with a statement of: "he asked me to marry him."

Dorcas was glad to be talking about anything but the war and the engagement was the first good news in a long time.

"So, did you say aye?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"What's there to think about?"

"I don't want him to ask me just because of the war. I want him to want it."

"What makes you think he doesn't?" Dorcas asked.

Jillian's answer was interrupted by a shadow that fell across their table. Dorcas looked up to see an unknown wizard. His hair was dark blond made richer by the streaming sunlight and his eyes a bright green. He smiled at them, assuming the appearance of an old friend who just stopped by to say hi, but his eyes remained cold.

Dorcas subtly pointed her wand under the table at him. Jillian, she noted, did the same.

The stranger brought with him two goblets of pumpkin juice. As he placed them on the table, he quickly slipped a piece of parchment under the goblet meant for Dorcas. Before the goblet covered the small note, Dorcas noticed the plain black wax seal stamped flat with no design. It was a symbol the Division members have been trained to recognize as used by old practitioners of dark magic.

"I can't help but notice you two beauties from over there." He pointed to a table at the other end of the room.

"I'm Joseph by the way. Perhaps I could join you two?"

It was Jillian who spoke up.

"I'm sorry, but my friend and I haven't seen each other for quite some time and we were hoping to catch up."

"Well some other time then. Perhaps tonight by nine." He flashed them another cold smile.

"Thank you for the drinks." Dorcas returned with an equally false smile, not taking her eyes off the wizard until he left the Leaky Cauldron.

Jillian raised an eyebrow.

"You reckon it's from Dark and Mysterious Master?"

Dorcas gazed around the room before answering.

"Dark and Mysterious my arse. More like Dark and Creepy. And yes. Or one of his higher ranking pals."

Jillian tapped the edge of her goblet contemplatively before reaching into the pocket of her robe. She pulled out two vials and took a sample from each goblet.

"I don't think they'll try something. Too obvious. Too easy to trace back to them."

"You never know these day." Jillian said while sealing the vials and returning them to her pocket. "I mean I didn't expect Joseph Goldstein to join Dark and Creepy, as you put it."

"You know him?"

"He was from my house, a Ravenclaw. A few years ahead of me. Left before you started Hogwarts. He was a straight arrow. You know the type, always did his homework, always helping the first years. He became prefect. Last I heard he worked for Gringotts. I wouldn't have pegged him to join Dark and Creepy."

The waiter arrived with their food, cutting off their conversation.

Jillian's revelation troubled Dorcas. The thought that very few people could be trusted and that people could very well act out of character or change their character so drastically put Dorcas on an even higher alert.

She caught herself absentmindedly rubbing her forearm.

8888

Dorcas didn't have anything against house elves, but the one that answered the door of 12 Grimmauld place and led her to the upper floors of the house was a nasty piece of work she decided. The house elf had snickered quite loudly when a large battle axe swung dangerously close to her head when she stepped into the front hall. She was certain that the elf should have disabled that charm before he opened the door for her.

She had her own fair share of dangerous missions, between Order work and Division work but she has never felt this apprehensive before. Following the vile house elf, through the lengthy corridors lined with dark elegant wood and filled with portraits lit by wall scones and floating black candles, Dorcas felt her blood thud rapidly through her veins. Although they were magical, most of the portraits remained still, as if they were loathe to disturb their regal poses, the only evidence of their ability to move were the their furtive glances and clenched hands.

Regulus wasn't alone in his room when she got there. Standing by the window and holding the curtains back was a tall, angular faced woman all regal in bearing. The most striking of her features was her sharp gray eyes that at one time in her youth were probably very lovely. Now they were mostly cold and haunting. The resemblance to her sons, Dorcas found, was unsettling.

"Miss Meadowes," Mrs. Black greeted curtly.

Dorcas resisted the urge to curtsy.

"Mrs. Black, thank you for having me." Then turning to Regulus, she gave him a small smile. "Regulus."

"Cassie," he whispered softly. "It's good to have you here."

"Are you feeling better?"

Regulus' smile got bigger. "It was a small head wound."

"Small indeed!" Mrs. Black tutted. "A great deal of blood was spilled. Black blood, mind. Are you aware Miss Meadowes of the bravery of my son? All for the purification of Wizarding Blood."

"Yes, ma'am. Your son is very brave." Dorcas said evenly.

"She was there mother." Regulus clarified.

Mrs. Black's eyebrows rose and she openly scrutinized Dorcas.

"You are a Meadowes. Daughter of Damian and Daria Meadowes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yet you come here to sully us with your muggle loving presence."

"Mother, she is one of us." Regulus said hoping to interrupt the interrogation Dorcas was being put through.

An eyebrow rose even higher over those sharp gray eyes.

"Is that so, Regulus. Miss, show me your arm."

Dorcas was able to keep her face impassive. She figured that Mrs. Black was probably scarier during the times when she was quiet and collected than when she was trying to browbeat others. She lifted her left arm to Mrs. Black, who quite expectedly pushed up her sleeve to reveal the snake and skull tattoo on her forearm.

Mrs. Black gave her calculating look.

Dorcas straightened her spine and lifted her chin. It won't do to show this woman fear.

"I believe in the superiority of the Wizarding Race ma'am."

Mrs. Black remained silent for a time, before speaking: "I see." Then turning to Regulus she said, "I'll leave the two of you for the moment to talk."

Once Mrs. Black had left, Dorcas turned to Regulus. She was finally able to really observe him for the first time and saw that he looked weary and pale. The head wound must have been a nasty one.

Regulus spoke first.

"I'm glad you came. I was getting lonely here. Please sit."

Dorcas positioned herself at the edge of a very comfortable arm chair deliberating whether to get to the point or to engage in small talk.

"I was asked to give you this," Dorcas replied.

Regulus studied the note and the seal, looking for signs of tampering, before breaking it open.

Dorcas watched with a carefully composed expression. She had actually tried to break open the note. When it had proven to be beyond her capability, she had brought it to Tutela's office only to find that the head of the Division wasn't there. She then brought it to Dumbledore.

The Headmaster informed her that he would be able to break the seal but only if there was enough time to do it. Something that they didn't have since she was expected to deliver it by nine that evening. True enough by eight, she spotted several Death Eaters following her from her place all the way to Grimmauld Place, making sure that the note reached Regulus by the said time.

The only way to know what was in the note was to read it once Regulus had it opened or to get the details from Regulus.

Regulus' brow was furrowed while he studied the note. Once he was done, instead of burning it as she expected, Regulus placed it inside his dresser drawer and magically sealed the dresser.

The fact that Regulus did not try to conceal its hiding place from her meant that he trusted her to a certain extent which would make what she needed to do a little easier.

"I hope it wasn't just the note that brought you here." Regulus said a little petulantly.

"It's good you're looking better," Dorcas said, changing the topic completely.

"I've been taken cared of. Thank you for coming. So how do you like Grimmauld Place."

_Frightening._

"It's all very grand. The Portrait Hall is incredible. Can they be persuaded to move?"

Regulus gave a rich laugh and it was the first time Dorcas had seen him so unguarded. She thought that it would do him a world of good not to carry the weight of his family around too much. Perhaps if she got him to loosen up, she would have a chance to look at that note.

"The portraits are quite full of themselves. I remember..." Regulus began and Dorcas settled herself for the telling.

* * *

Sirius waved his cigarette as an excuse and stepped into the comfort of the outdoors, away from the happiness inside the Potter residence and the stark contrast of that with his own family life. In the darkness the leaves where in different shades of gray, the monochromatic combination caused by the leaching of color during sunset; in the daylight, they were turning gold.

The cigarette between Sirius' fingers went out in the slight draft and after a few attempts of starting it with a muggle lighter without any success, he cast an Impervious spell and lit it with his wand.

The wind between the leaves drowned out the sounds inside the Potter house. The Fawcetts were staying there for a time, until the government or Edgar Bones' group (whichever pulled through first) could arrange for their accommodations outside of England. Fake IDs, new wands with new magical signatures, a place to stay, some Galleons, all these things had to be seen to so that the Fawcetts can have their new life.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter, being who they were, were delighted with having the Fawcetts over and embraced being surrogate aunt and uncle to the three children with enthusiasm. He, James, Lily, Remus and Peter each took turns baby sitting the children and playing host to the Fawcetts.

Sirius enjoyed playing with the children, in between Order missions, nights out and manning the shop in Knockturn Alley. He spent the time illegally teaching the children transfiguration spells using kiddie starter wands or refereeing Quidditch matches in the living room with James.

The time with the children was almost as satisfying as the report he gave the Order the other day about the Beddinfelds, a young Pureblood couple who made muggle baiting their hobby. The couple was arrogant enough to brag about it to their friends while inside his shop. His report was routed to the Aurors via Moody, which then led to the arrest of a few Purebloods with discriminatory practices. That should teach them not to speak to loudly about illegal activities in public places.

Yet during the quiet moments, without the shield that the slew of missions provided, his thoughts would return to Regulus and his hand in his brother's escape. Sometimes, Sirius felt that he needed to get away from the happy family talk in the Potter household. It was selfish of him and he was being envious of what he didn't have, he admitted, but at least he was honest with himself.

After saying his good byes, he headed towards the center of town to Disapparate back to his apartment in muggle London. Soon he was weaving in and out of traffic on his motorcycle in search of a bar to hang out in. But instead of anonymity and depravity of a cheap club he found himself standing in front of the space between eleven and thirteen Grimmauld Place. He watched as the house squeezed itself from in between its neighbors and expanded to reveal the mansion's full glory. He tried to take a step closer, then hesitated. Looking up, his eyes landed on a lighted window. Its shade was drawn but once in a while, shadows would move across. It was Regulus' room, and it offered him some comfort that his brother was being taken cared of. The gash across his brother's forehead wasn't a small cut that would heal on its own.

He didn't know how long he stayed there just staring at the drawn piece of cloth, trying to decipher what was happening within based on what he could make of the vague forms, much like watching a puppet show. But when he saw a figure pull back the curtains, stand directly by the window and stare out at him, he backed away slowly from 12 Grimmauld Place and watched as it squeezed and shrunk away into nothing but a blank space between the two houses.

8888

The muggle club he chose didn't hold his attention very long and after an hour of lukewarm flirting with a buxom woman six years his senior, Sirius left for other places that might give him the opportunity to vent his frustration. For some reason, he found himself heading for Grimmauld Place again.

_Just for a little while._ He promised himself, hoping it would exorcise some of his demons. For the whole of five minutes, he stood there, hoping that the neighbors wouldn't call the muggle police.

"Hello Sirius. Having a little stroll in the neighborhood?"

Sirius turned around and found Narcissa standing under a lamppost. He searched the building behind her and the dark alleyway to her left, looking for the Death Eaters that he could not see but was certain were there.

"You should leave, Narcissa." He spat.

"I think that applies to you." Narcissa enunciated clearly, her voice soft and even. "You are the one who ran away. You are the one who isn't welcome here. "

Sirius drew out his wand and gamely tried to point it at her. Narcissa merely smiled politely.

"I don't think you want to do that, _cousin_." She emphasized the last word, reminding him that he was being spared because of their blood relation. "We both know that I am, shall we say, protected."

"I don't give a shite. Regulus almost got killed. For all I know, your loving little boyfriend brought him to the Fawcetts. If I find out for certain that he brought Regulus there, I think I will do to him what I just did to the Beddingfelds a couple of days ago."

Narcissa's smile tightened but she hardly raised her voice. "You are fortunate Aunty told me to courteously ask you to leave. Go away Sirius or I might not wait for the next time and rescind this particular courtesy early."

"Narcissa, what a surprise to find you here." A deep male voice resonated from the dark alleyway, and just as suddenly, Lucius was behind her, holding her around the waist. "Me and my friends where just out enjoying the night air." He said the last, looking pointedly at Sirius.

Sirius turned around and sure enough, Goyle, Crabbe and Nott were standing behind him.

Lucius gave him an arrogant smile. "Is this person disturbing you?"

Narcissa had an inscrutable expression before answering. "He was, but I think since it is getting late, it would be smart of me to just leave."

"Very well Narcissa." Lucius replied and then kissed Narcissa's hand before she Disapparated. Lucius gave a small nod towards the three people standing behind Sirius before Disapparating as well.

As soon as Lucius had gone, Sirius felt something hit him in the back. Sirius spun around so quickly, that he was able to stun the person behind him. Goyle's surprise had cost him, and Sirius was able to land a spell squarely on his jaw. Crabbe recovered enough to punch Sirius in the stomach, but Sirius was able to sidestep the hit. Sirius already had his wand out in one hand and his other hand balled in a fist that landed in the middle of Crabbe's- no, Nott's- chest. Goyle had recovered from his initial surprise and aimed a kick at Sirius' knee. At the same time, somebody cast a spell which Sirius blocked with an Expelliarmus.

Sirius watched as Crabbe's wand flew into the bushes.

_One wand down, two more to go._

Sirius could hold up his own in a fair fight, but three against one was hardly fair, and added to it was this strange combination of fists and magic that wizards rarely resorted to. The last time Sirius had been in a fight like this was during one of his training missions, when he was still learning to be an Auror. They were sent into a seedy part of Wizarding Britain. Wielding illegal wands, warlocks, hags and harpies were the ones who used this fighting style. The Auror manual states that numbers always dictated the outcome of fights like these.

Soon Sirius found himself out of breath and on the ground. He tried using his wand, but that was snatched from his hand. Well aimed kicks came from the three and the only thing that Sirius could do was curl up into a fetal position to protect his internal organs.

Once three cracks announced that they had Disapparated, Sirius gently unwound himself from his position and tried to locate his wand. He spotted it lying a few meters away, the wood slightly scuffed. He waved his hand at it wearily, summoning the mental strength to cast a wandless spell. He watched knowing that the silver streak that shot out of his wand would bring the Marauders over before he finally succumbed to closing his eyes.

* * *

Dorcas had moved from her post in the armchair and was now by the window where Mrs. Black had previously been looking out of and was watching with hooded eyes the passing street traffic. She had spaced out from the tale Regulus was telling about the aunt who beheaded house elves and was more interested in deciphering the strange movement of the men in hoods- certainly not muggle- that flitted through the crooked alleyways. They knew that she was in the house, delivering their message but she wasn't sure if they would be waiting for her to exit.

Suddenly, a swiftly moving shadow to the left of the house caught her attention. She knew that figure, recognized the confident, purposeful stride despite the attempts of the person to slouch and hid his identity in his muggle leather jacket. She had been around the owner of that swagger often enough recently. Besides, it was the same arrogant walk he had in Hogwarts.

"...that was the lady in the fourth portrait from the right. Good old Aunt Eladora." Regulus finished.

"You must have a family of dedicated Purebloods," Dorcas prompted distractedly. She couldn't turn around from what was happening in the dark street outside and it wouldn't do to have Regulus seeing this. She spotted Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy having a heated conversation with Sirius and observed as the rest of the hooded company congregate around him. She watched with disgusted fascination as the hooded figures approached Sirius and started hitting him with spells. Sirius seemed to hold up well to the challenge of three goons and was able to disarm one of them quickly.

"Well you certainly would understand being from an ideal family yourself." Regulus said.

"I would hardly call the Meadowes' family legacy ideal," she muttered.

Below her the Death Eaters turned the match into a physical brawl. No matter how good Sirius was with a wand, three against one in a physical battle left little doubt as to who would win.

"You have hundreds of years of pure wizarding blood behind you. A few misguided ancestors would be easily forgotten as long as you remain loyal to the cause. There is certainly a way for your family to regain its old prestige," Regulus began.

Dorcas heard Regulus move behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she found him standing directly behind her. She dropped the curtain, hoping that Regulus did not catch what was going on outside. On the other hand, there was a pretty good chance that Regulus knew exactly what was happening outside and that he ordered it.

Dorcas felt like squirming with the proximity. She looked down and started worrying her lip. "Cassie," Regulus reached up and pushed her hair off her face. "Will you look at me?"

Dorcas met his eyes, expecting them to look overconfident like the Regulus of late- the Regulus that took his role as the Black heir seriously. She was rather relieved to find him looking discomfited much like the uncertain schoolboy she remembered in Slytherin.

"Cassie, I'm not stupid enough to think that I will have complete freedom to choose who to be happy with. My family may allow me to choose but she must pass their approval. And more so now with joining the Death Eaters. If I'm going to have some illusion of a choice, I'd rather it be someone whom I've known since I was twelve rather than some distant cousin that I will probably never get to know."

"You don't know this Regulus."

"You've met my mother. Does she strike you as the type to all of a sudden allow me to do whatever I want? Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I do not want to be a Death Eater. I do believe that we should regain our place as superiors. But at least I want to have a small say in this. I know we weren't close in Hogwarts, but that can change. And I want to do the right thing by my family."

Regulus still had his hand on her face and she could feel it trembling against her cheek. She knew she should be annoyed by this strange, archaic proposal but for a moment, she was moved by his resignation to his fate. He had given up his happiness for something he believed in. It may not be something she agreed with as right, but the similarity to her situation of giving things up for something greater was not lost on her.

The intensity of his gaze was unnerving so Dorcas averted her eyes.

"I don't expect you to answer now, but I want you to know that I enjoy your company."

_How would you know? We hardly spend time with each other, thank Merlin._

But the thought that maybe this was a way to find out what was in the note did not escape her.

888

Dorcas' exit from 12 Grimmauld Place was swift and uncomfortable. She was glad that Regulus didn't push the issue and that Mr. and Mrs. Black weren't really solicitous. Her good byes were quick and uneventful.

Once she was outside, she found Peter Pettigrew cradling Sirius' head in his lap while James Potter waved his wand around clumsily applying healing spells.

"Bloody idiot!" James hissed then in a softer voice, he sighed, "Merlin Padfoot."

Peter could only look on with a mixture of pity and fear.

"James? Mr. Pettigrew?" Dorcas interrupted.

Peter jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Dorcas. What are you doing here?" James looked over surprised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude or anything."

"I was in the area," she explained vaguely, looking over Sirius. As if barely conscious and in deep pain, Sirius' forehead was crumpled in a frown. The skin over his right cheekbone was starting to bruise and over his torso, she could see that there were other bruises that were starting to form. The spell that James cast would speed up the healing of the bruises and would prevent frightening discoloration. Blood stained the front of Sirius' shirt but Dorcas could not spot its source though she was sure James had already staunched the bleeding.

"That's his parents' house over there, hidden with enchantments." James pointed towards the place 12 Grimmauld Place. "It's very possible that they disapproved of him in the area."

"His parents? Not Regulus?" Dorcas asked, truly curious.

"Regulus doing this would be a surprise, unless he's changed much. The kid hero worships Sirius. His parents on the other hand..." James said.

"But their own son?" Dorcas asked surprise taking over her usually reserved manner.

"They're Blacks." Peter stated as if that explained it.

"It may not be them. Maybe they asked somebody to do it. Or maybe Sirius was being reckless and it provoked them. It wouldn't be the first time. Or even by just being out here and alerting other people to the idea that there may be something here and not just blank space. Mr. and Mrs. Black zealously guard the location of their house from being known." James voice, although soft, was clearly menacing.

Dorcas was struck by the depth of friendship he was obviously feeling. James was still talking but he was no longer addressing her, and was instead muttering at Sirius.

"Jeez Padfoot, who did you rile up this time?"

Then turning towards Peter he said, "he has to lay low for a while. We have to get him out of here."

"My mother-" Peter began. James raised his hand understandingly. "Remus?"

Peter shook his head. "Remus always seems busy these days. I don't know if he can take care of Sirius. We were supposed to be meeting this afternoon and he just didn't show. It's not like him. Besides, this close to the transformations... Well, he has enough to think about."

James was thinking for a moment. "Sirius can stay with us. Lily and I are helping with looking after the Fawcett children and Sirius' like a kid. What's one more child, right." His voice was light.

Dorcas studied James' face and saw that he really didn't mind at all taking Sirius in, but she could just imagine how taxing it would be for the couple. Lily was working double shifts as required by Moody; this she knew from her inside information and James was also doing things for Dumbledore. Plus, they were up for babysitting duty with the Fawcetts on top of that.

"I'll do it." The words were out before she even realized what she was saying. "I know a place." She did, after all, owe Sirius for taking care of her.

The breath Peter was holding went out of him and he had a relieved expression on his face, which made Dorcas question how much of a child Sirius can be. James, on the other hand, seemed like he was assessing her. She must have passed muster to care for his best friend because he gave a curt "ok" and gripped her shoulder.

"Where are you taking him?" Then James stopped. "No, don't tell me. If they come after me, it's best that I don't know."

Dorcas gave him a grim smile. It was a sad time when people cannot know where their friends are as a way to keep them safe.

She cast around for something. She picked up an adequately sized rock, then turning to Peter, "all Ministry employees please turn around and pretend they didn't see an illegal portkey."

She touched her wand to the stone, muttered _Portus,_ and watched it glow a faint blue. She placed the hand of unconscious Sirius on the stone then tightened her grip around it.

"You'll keep him safe." James said softly. Despite the tone, Dorcas recognized the command for what it was and it left her afraid of returning Sirius to his friends with even a small scratch.

"I will."

The time delay on the Portkey went out. She felt a tug in her stomach, saw a blur of color, and the next thing she knew, she was hearing the gentle crash of the surf against the sand and the soft keening of gulls.

* * *

AN:

Where's Remus? I'm sure Sirius would like to know as well.  
Thanks for the reviews! Review responses in my author's page.  
Next update on July 29 or 30. If I do get ahead on writing the chapters, I will update more frequently.


	22. Chapter Nineteen

AN: Sorry for the long delay, real life has a tendency to get in the way. No promises this time about the next posting, since I tend to break them.

Thanks to those who read and who reviewed. Thanks also to the moderator who added this to the C2 group.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended. 

** The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season **

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
_"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Nineteen**

It was nearly daybreak, but the sea air remained mercilessly cold and Sirius, although still unconscious, was shivering in her arms.

There was an Incolumitas safe house in the area, on the outskirts of town. Dorcas wasn't certain if it was occupied at present or if it was a compromised safe house, but there was no other option available for them.

She chose this particular location because it was a predominantly muggle town along the coast of England and untouched by the wizarding war. However, a part of her remained wary- the part that made it hard for her to trust people. It was the same part that kept her alive.

Levitating Sirius, she awkwardly made her way past the local grocer, the wooden chapel, the post office and a few bed and breakfasts until she reached a squat wooden cottage.

The log walls of the cottage were covered with moss and cobwebs and some of the windowpanes were cracked. But if anybody tried to peer into those windows, they wouldn't see anything at all. To a muggle, the house remained dark all hours of the day. Or at least it should, if the spells were working correctly.

After making sure that nobody was around, Dorcas checked the integrity of the spells around the structure, then added some of her own before entering.

The uninviting exterior hid the simple comforts of the place. There was a bedroom and a bathroom, a small kitchen and a simple sofa facing a fireplace. Since Sirius needed the bed in the mean time, it was obvious where she would stay.

The bedroom contained a rickety wooden chair with a side table to match, a wardrobe, a creaky spring bed and what looked like a soggy mattress. Cursing under her breath, Dorcas pointed her wand towards the bed and muttered a few cleaning spells before depositing Sirius.

She waved her wand over the sleeping form, touching the places where the bruises turned dark. The healing spells that she knew where mostly from her Division training and consisted of first aid. She hoped it was enough to heal Sirius' injuries and ward off the pain.

She then made an inventory of the contents of the safe house. Not surprisingly, there was no food in the kitchen. There were however, muggle clothes in the wardrobe- enough to blend in with the muggles in town.

Standing by the fireplace, she deliberated whether to start a fire, then decided against it because it might make the place accessible to the Wizarding World. So she headed for the window, lifted her wand and watched as the silver streak of her message headed for Dumbledore.

As she returned to the bedroom to check on Sirius, her eyes fell upon the gnawed appearance of the chair and she eyed it suspiciously. She knew she had to go into town soon for food but lack of rest won and she settled herself into the chair gingerly. Soon, against her own volition and despite the stiffness of the chair back, she drifted to sleep.

8888

The ceaseless tapping of an owl on the window later that afternoon woke her from her sleep. The only owls that could find her were from the Division and probably from Dumbledore, though she's never had the occasion to test that. She let the owl in and untied the note.

The note unrolled to reveal two parchments; both were blank.

She murmured a series of numbers and touched her wand to the surface of the top most parchment. Ink traveled from the end of her wand and formed into words.

_ You have at most 3 days, then, I expect you to report as soon as you are back in L. I have arranged for a new cover._

Doing the same to the second parchment, the following message was formed.

_D-  
The refreshments were truthfully delightful.  
-J_

Dorcas was hardly surprised. The Division may not know the reasons for this impromptu "break;" they may have no idea what she was doing here, but they always knew where to find her because of the tracking spell Tutela has on all of her Unspeakables.

The second message bothered her, though the implications she had still to think about. Jillian was probably the one sent it, which meant that she found traces of Veritaserum in the pumpkin juice from Goldstein.

After reading, Dorcas burned the both notes as protocol dictated, then returned to tending to Sirius. The tapping must have woken him up and he must have been watching her the entire time because she found him sitting up in bed and staring at her ash covered hand, his forehead creased.

Dorcas' first impulse was to Obliviate him, but she remembered that he already knew the nature of her work. Keeping her expression bland, she faced him expecting- no- almost daring him to comment.

He kept quiet.

They did not greet each other. She didn't acknowledge that he was awake and he hardly made to ask as to why he was there. As the silence stretched between them, it grew more uncomfortable. In their past meetings, they had always talked about information and the mission. The one time they had talked about miscellany- during the walk towards the Potters' house- it was Sirius who brought up the topics. Besides, at that time she was struggling with the urge to argue with him, to air out her grievances with how he had treated her. But now, after he took care of her despite his apprehensions and his mistrust of her, after she realized that he has a right to his reactions and his feelings of doubt, Dorcas had no idea what to say to him.

She also had to address her feeling of indebtedness to him. The Dark Mark would have undoubtedly killed her if it weren't for him.

She cleared her throat.

"Black," she began awkwardly, "thank you."

He gave her an easy smile, and waved his hand flamboyantly around him. "Thanks, too, I suppose. We're equal then, I reckon."

She bit her lip, shifted from one leg to the other and fiddled with her hands. Then she nodded, not really knowing what to say.

"When did this..." Sirius asked.

Dorcas was relieved that what he was asking was related in someway to the war and answered, "just yesterday."

"Crabbe, Nott, Goyle. They weren't found."

"No."

"Well, I didn't think so. Couldn't even place anything big on them. The MLES will think it's just old schoolboy grudges." Sirius said nonchalantly. "Where are we?"

"A safe house. By the sea."

"Not many people?"

"Not this early in summer."

Tentatively touching his cheekbone, Sirius added, "I hope it's not too awful."

Dorcas didn't know whether to be amused at his vanity or slightly alarmed that Sirius was talking with her so comfortably. His change in attitude, that he was no longer hostile towards her, bothered her. "The spells I used would make sure that the bruising would resolve quickly," she answered neutrally.

"I wonder where my communicating speculum is." Sirius started patting the bed around him.

Dorcas wordlessly pulled out his mirror from her robe.

"That's not bad." Sirius murmured gently touching the bruising on his face. "I hope the lady agrees."

Dorcas merely shrugged, although she too was glad that Sirius's injuries weren't as bad as they had appeared to be in the dim streetlights of Grimmauld Place. With the spells, she was sure that by tomorrow or later that day Sirius would be up and about.

Sirius replaced the mirror by the bed then met Dorcas eyes.

"You've been standing there the whole time, Dorcas. Why don't you sit down."

_When did Black start calling me Dorcas?_

"No. But thank you." Dorcas replied flatly.

"Please sit down, Dorcas." Sirius gave her another one of his smiles. Dorcas noticed he had been doing that a lot in this conversation. "Don't make yourself uncomfortable on my account," he continued.

"I'm fine." She clipped.

Sirius sighed loudly. "In case you haven't heard of it, it's called small talk."

Dorcas felt guilty. He's been trying to be polite. But she can't help it. She couldn't understand why he was friendly all of a sudden. And why the hell was he using her first name? She promised herself some time ago to be civil to him, so she pulled the rickety chair up to his bed and tried to be as comfortable as possible.

They sat in silence once again. Dorcas tried looking at her shoes, her hands, the blankets- anything but him. Sirius, on the other hand, kept on looking at her as if he couldn't make up his mind about her and she resisted the urge to squirm.

Feeling his gaze on her, she followed his line of sight to her forearm. She didn't know which irritated her more, the steady throb of her forearm (which she had learned to ignore and only noticed when it was brought to her attention) or the fact that Sirius kept on glancing at it. She knew he was attempting to be discrete about it- and failing miserably.

Irritably, she turned to him. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"Sorry?" Sirius tried to look contrite.

"The tattoo." _Small talk is what he wants, fine!_ "And I could get a rebate if I bring in a friend."

Sirius looked a little off balance for a moment. He stared at her for a minute before bursting into laughter. It was so natural and so unlike what she knew about him so far that Dorcas thought it sounded nice.

Finally, he said, "What about four for the price of one? I have a few friends I'd like to treat."

And for the first time around him, Dorcas smiled genuinely.

After a few minutes of meaningless chatter, Sirius started yawning again. Dorcas said that it was the effect of the anti-pain spell and told him to sleep. Once he was snoring softly, she double-checked the wards on the windows and the door.

Then she changed into the outdated muggle clothes in the wardrobe and slipped out of the safehouse.

* * *

Sirius first reaction was to wonder where he was. The peeling paint off the ceiling and the moldy smelling bed certainly meant that he wasn't in his apartment. He paid good quid for his cotton sheets. 

Then it came back to him. He was in a fight yesterday, beaten up. He was in a safe house, or so Dorcas had told him when he woke up a while ago, if that conversation was to be believed. Apparently he had fallen asleep and now had no idea how long ago that was.

He shifted a bit in bed, which started a dull pain in his side. Sirius tried moving again, and when the pain didn't get any worse he decided he spent too much time in bed already. The healing spells must be effective.

Sirius discovered that the state of the rest of the place wasn't any better than the bedroom. He also discovered that Dorcas was nowhere to be found. During the short trip from the threadbare sofa to the dusty kitchen, Sirius made up his mind.

8888

Sirius studied the layout of the town and realized that it survived mainly on the business brought by tourists. Quaint little souvenir shops flanked both sides of the street beside candy stores that boasted the "best taffy you'll ever taste."

_If I were Dorcas Meadowes, where would I go?_

Sirius realized that he had no answer. He had almost no idea of who Dorcas was. What he knew of her were mostly superficial facts. He knew that she was descended from a pureblood family and that her parents were known wizard liberals. He knew that her sister was probably the most important person to her. But those things wouldn't help him find her. He needed to know things like whether she would go to the grocer for food or stop for a pint at the pub first. Maybe she had a sweet tooth and would pass by for a lolly.

Well, he knew that she was smart and pragmatic; her job necessitated it.

Then he saw her come out of the grocers carrying a few bags.

Sirius started following her from across the street, making sure there were always people between them. He knew he should just go up to her instead of bothering with trailing her, but it was much more interesting this way. Besides, if he went up to her, then they'd have more of those uncomfortable discussions. This way, he could learn a little more about this person he was working with, without having to do that.

She stopped in front of a trinket shop, looking at the display, before moving on to a taffy shop. She seemed to contemplate whether to go in, but she moved on instead.

_Maybe Dorcas Meadowes does have a sweet tooth?_

He followed her as she went into clothes stores and waited under an awning a few stores down until she came out. He trailed her as she moved towards the town's pub.

_Need a few pints, Dorcas?_ He wondered as he waited for her to exit from across the street.

It was pretty much like his auror training and it distracted him from the dull pain in his side.

After fifteen minutes and no Dorcas, Sirius was starting to get worried. What if she was in trouble, he should have just shown himself to her instead of play his little game. At least that way, he'd know what happened to her. Making up his mind, he entered the pub.

The place was filled with locals having their midday meal, but no Dorcas. He described her to one of the servers and was directed towards the back exit.

_So she knew he was following her._ Sirius felt like laughing.

The exit, it turned out, led to an alleyway with small enclaves, other back doors.

And it was empty.

_Was she in trouble?_

Then in a split second, Sirius knew exactly where she was. He spun around and the next thing he knew he was blasted flat against a wall, unable to move, with her wand to his throat.

"BLOODY HELL!" Dorcas roared.

She was panting as loudly as he was, which was a comfort to his ego. He wasn't the only one nervous.

He would later blame it on being young and male, but he couldn't help it. In their proximity, his eyes were drawn to her lips, soft-looking and lightly parted with the effort of breathing. Sirius swallowed and felt her wand jab harder into his neck.

"Alleyways are getting to be a habit with us. We should stop meeting like this," he croaked, trying for nonchalance and failing.

She let out an loud breath and muttered sarcastically, "we should just stop meeting at all."

She lifted her wand from his neck, which ended the spell and he felt the ability to move return to him.

Then in the same wave of temporary insanity- or so he will claim again and again in the future- he used his weight and pinned her against the wall.

In Hogwarts, that move had gotten him some fond memories with a few daring ladies.

He saw her eyes widen briefly in surprise before they narrowed into slits. That she was actually expressing some degree of feeling instead of presenting him her patented bland facade made him feel triumphant.

He then realized that even cool and calm Dorcas Meadowes had a breaking point and once that point was reached, she was even more dangerous.

He also realized that Dorcas' lips were a great distraction and it took him some effort to focus on her words.

"Let. Me. Go."

Sirius suddenly felt ashamed and couldn't meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

He didn't get a reply. He didn't really expect one. Instead, he got a sigh of frustration as he followed her out of the alleyway.

* * *

Dorcas stiffened from her position on the couch. After the incident in the alleyway, she quickly returned home while Sirius said he wanted to head out towards the beach. He spent the rest of the day there, but at least had the decency to check in every so often using the communicating speculums. She knew that she shouldn't have allowed him outside without her but she didn't want to have any more uncomfortable conversations with him. He wasn't the type to want a sitter around, being the arrogantly independent person that he was. And after going around town, she was pretty confident of the safety of the area. 

It was late when Sirius told her through the mirrors that he was heading back. By that time, she was already preparing for bed. Knowing that he can reset the spells around the house, she had been planning to be asleep by the time he arrived to avoid talking to him. She was lying on the couch, trying to fall asleep when she heard the soft click of the door closing.

She was deliberating whether to open her eyes and announce she was awake when she heard him sigh loudly.

"Of course you _had_ to take the couch... stubborn..." he muttered. "I can be an arse sometimes-"

_Sometimes?_ Dorcas thought and resisted the urge to snort.

"- made you think you can't have the bed... even if I was bloodied up. You're the girl, for Merlin's sake! …brought up with some manners."

Dorcas bit her lip but kept her eyes shut.

"Bloody hell, Dorcas..."

His voice was moving closer to her, so she tried to even out her breathing. He was still talking, but he was mostly mumbling to himself, and she could only make out phrases.

"...I see... don't trust me. Well bollocks, I didn't trust you either. But..."

Judging by his voice, he was in front of her and quite close.

"There's nobody to trust in this war, I guess..."

Then she felt his arms around her and she was about to speak out when she felt herself being lifted from the couch.

He was carrying her! Into the bedroom, no doubt, but without a levitating spell, without any magic. And she had no idea why he was bothering. She had to resist the urge to squirm.

He was still mumbling, all the way to the room.

"Then I saw you with your sister and I knew you were okay. Family is different. I'm not talking about bloodlines and blood ties. I'm talking about real family, the one you feel at home with. I'd do the same for James, Remus, Peter. Bollocks, even Lily. Maybe especially Lily, for all she's done for us idiots. And Regulus, of course." He took a small breaking breath. "Reg... the little bugger just annoys me sometimes... how could such a smart person be so stupid."

The world seemed to tilt again as he placed her in bed and arranged the covers around her.

"I always seem to be carrying you into rooms, you know..."

Dorcas waited for five minutes before opening her eyes and was relieved when she was greeted by an empty room. She stared at the closed door for a full minute, her mind full of what she just heard. She had no idea what to do with Sirius' unwitting confession.

8888

A sharp cry brought her out of her sleep and standing outside her window was Darcy, peering in. She stepped out of bed and headed for the window, rubbing her eyes all the time, only to find upon closer inspection that her sister was gone.

But her voice. Her voice continued. So Dorcas rushed quickly out of the house, unmindful that she was only wearing pyjamas. She stopped for a moment, concentrating on the direction of the wind and the soft keening that had brought her outdoors in the first place. A voice, so much like her own, had been screaming and crying. It blended with the sound of the surf, overpowering the voice with its loud crashes against the sand.

There.

She headed for the shore.

The crying had started again, and this time, in the distance, she could make out a faint form- a pale form reflecting back moonlight in a black, churning landscape.

"Darcy. Stay still. I'll get to you."She shouted, her voice torn from her mouth by the wind and the crashing surf. She could only hope that her sister had a faint inkling of what she was saying.

There is a belief that twins have extraordinary ways of communicating with each other. When they were children, she and Darcy could complete each other's sentences. They were so in tune with each other it was as if they were reading each other's minds. But that was before she started attending Hogwarts, back when they spent a great deal of time together. She could only hope that the old belief was true and that it was as effective as a linking spell.

She ran towards the water line, then into the icy water. The sand made soft sucking motions until it gave way, and she could no longer reach the bottom. She waded towards the pale figure, and it grew in size the closer she was to it. Just a little more, and she would be able to...

Dorcas turned the body of her sister over, lifting her face above the water, only instead of her face there was a skeleton with a snake for a tongue.

Dorcas screamed. She felt the waves rise and in place of her scream, she was swallowing and inhaling water.

"There she is, Professor Slughorn. See, she killed her."

Dorcas lifted her head, and instead of the sea, she was back in Hogwarts in a corridor near the Potions classroom. Around her, black robed students wearing Gryffindor red, Slytherin green, Ravenclaw blue and Hufflepuff yellow were whispering among themselves. Standing separately from them was Sirius, wearing both a red and gold Gryffindor scarf and a green and silver Slytherin one. His left hand was pointed in her direction; his right hand held the decapitated head of Regulus by the hair.

Dorcas looked down at her arms, searching for the dead weight of her sister, only to find that the body was gone. Instead, there was only darkness, growing from her forearm, moving up her arms to her body up to her head. Swallowing her until she was nothing.

"It's all right. Dorcas, shh. It's all right."

Soothing voice.

Strange ticking feeling in her scalp.

Soft cloth on her face.

"Shh, shh. Sleep now."


	23. Chapter Twenty

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Twenty**

Sirius cooking breakfast was a strange sight to behold. It seemed so out of character for a rich, spoiled, pureblood that Dorcas, who doesn't get surprised much because of the nature of her job, was in shock.

He nodded a morning greeting, which Dorcas returned before sitting down at the table.

"Need help?"

"No." Sirius mumbled before looking up and flashing her a big smile. Dorcas wanted to sigh. He was going to be friendly. After what she overheard last night, she guiltily thought that she needed to make a little more effort to be civil.

"I didn't think they'd allow a Black in the kitchen," Dorcas said then felt her face go hot. It wasn't exactly a friendly thing to say.

"Certainly not in Grimmauld Place." Sirius looked at her thoughtfully before beginning slowly. "I left home at sixteen. Stayed with James for a while. The Potters were the best but I reckoned I couldn't always live off the guy. And I couldn't eat omelets for all of my meals. So I learned to cook." He shrugged. "Besides, it works with the ladies."

_Ah, the Sirius Black she knew._ Dorcas rolled her eyes.

Sirius placed a plate in front of her and took up the place opposite her.

"You're not eating, Black?"

"Ate already."

Dorcas nodded not knowing what else to say. He took a sip of tea, all the while watching her from above the rim, making her feel very uncomfortable. She looked at her food instead.

"So, Dorcas, good sleep?"

"Yes." Dorcas responded automatically, pushing her hair out of her tired eyes. Her morning shower did not help much.

"You had nightmares." Sirius said pointedly.

Words of denial were already being formed on her lips when an incessant memory from last night's sleep resurfaced: a low and soothing voice, a gentle touch brushing her hair away from her face. Subterfuge would only return his mild distrust of her and there was no point in disclaiming what was already out on the open.

"Sleep is difficult for me without a draught."

Small lines appeared on his forehead. Dorcas felt uneasy at his concern.

"Because of the summons?" Sirius asked.

Hesitation gripped her briefly, but the intimacy of the comfort offered and received last night, albeit unwittingly, has placed them past the stage of obligated amicability.

"My parents' deaths."

He gave a small nod, but remained silent, neither demanding nor apathetic.

Had he said any of the cliché responses- I'm sorry or I didn't know- she might have easily slipped back into the role of distanced comrade-at-arms. As it stood, she was the one taken cared of and there were no demands on his part for an explanation that he had half a right to know.

She gave him a shrug, aiming for nonchalance, hoping to lift the heaviness of the air around them. "I was too young to realize the dangers of continued use. Then after Hogwarts there were things... Anyway, it's too late to wean myself off it now." Then with false brightness, she added, "Everybody has some form of addiction. Mine, it's sleeping draught."

The gaze she received from Sirius made her want to squirm. His brows were drawn together and his expression was intense, as if he was seeing her for the first time. She couldn't decipher his expression.

He nodded. "Losing family is hard. Particularly the ones who are important." Then he went about cleaning up the cookware he used to prepare the meal.

If there was anything that she learned during the war, it was that death isn't the only way to lose one's family.

"He's all right, you know" she said, supplying what he needed to hear but didn't want to ask.

Sirius stopped midway between the the table and the sink and with his back to her, he said, "you mean the bugger's breathing. He's breathing but not all right."

"No, I mean all right. He's recovering. He's going to be fine."

She saw his shoulders relax.

"That's good. The idiot's managed to keep himself alive."

She sensed the change in the atmosphere and kept quiet, allowing Sirius the time to compose himself under the pretense of washing the cookware. They lay in the sink for some time; his wand was poised in mid wave, forgotten. Finally, he collected himself and mumbled a cleaning spell.

Dorcas watched with facination as Sirius waved his wand around the dishes with an ease that surprised her. It was a day of surprises it seemed, starting with the admission that he ran away to his ease around the kitchen. She already knew about the running away. She had seen it in his file in the hefty folder on the Black family in the Incolumitas Division. The biggest surprise however, was that he was sharing all of these information with her.

Then Sirius placed his wand on the counter and gave a loud sigh.

"Dorcas, I'm sorry about yesterday," Sirius began. "I really shouldn't have done that, especially since with your job, you're probably under enough stress as it is."

"It's fine."

"Good."

"Yeah."

She finished her meal in silence, after which she and Sirius got into a small argument as to who would wash the dishes that she used. By the time they had finished (with her washing and him drying), she thought that their tentative truce would go out the window.

Dorcas took one look at Sirius and knew instantaneously that if they stayed together in that house with nothing to do, they'd drive each other crazy. Sirius must have had the same idea because he went into the bedroom without a word and came back with both their jackets.

* * *

The attraction of the town was the sea so they naturally gravitated towards shore, watching the gulls take flight and the boardwalk fill with the early summer tourists. Silence descended at the start of their walk, and the longer conversation was put off, the more uncomfortable it was to start. Dorcas turned her head away from Sirius and watched the surf instead, hoping to avoid having to make conversation. Sirius mostly smoked, kicked up sand and watched his feet.

Sirius, being companionable by nature and one not to tolerate pregnant silences, spoke up first.

"You know, I'm trying to remember you from Hogwarts. Like what house you were from."

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought it was obvious."

"Slytherin?"

"Slytherin. Can't say I enjoyed that bit of my stay at Hogwarts." She finished dryly.

She turned to face Sirius and almost laughed at the expression of distaste on his face.

"The Sorting Hat did contemplate Ravenclaw for a moment. Then it said that I had a penchant for, what was it-" she wrinkled her nose trying to recall the exact words. "-_circumnavigating rules_."

Sirius turned to face her and gave her a curious look.

Dorcas turned towards him. "What?"

"Slytherin seems obvious because of the whole Death Eater thing. Then- don't get mad- I saw you with your sister, and now I can't really see you in Slytherin. But I can't really picture you in Ravenclaw either."

Dorcas shot him a small smile. In her first few years at Hogwarts, she certainly pondered a lot about how instrumental in changing her life her being sorted into Slytherin was.

"Well Black, aside from Potters of this world, the obvious Gryffindor and Malfoys who can't be anywhere but Slytherin, there are a few of us who live somewhere in between. Besides, Remus was in Gryffindor."

"True..." Sirius grinned. "And it's Sirius by the way."

"Huh?"

"You keep calling me Black. It's Sirius."

Dorcas didn't know what to say to that so instead she said, "the hat couldn't have possibly put you directly into Gryffindor without thinking of other houses."

"I'm a Black. Of course the Sorting Hat thought of other houses. Well, it thought of The Other House."

Sirius gave her a mock expression of disgust, and she tried- and failed- to hide her smile.

"Don't you see?" Dorcas asked. "I've been spending my whole life sub rosa. It's what I'm used to. I've got ties in Slytherin that put me in perfect position to spy for Dumbledore. I don't claim to like it but I don't have the luxury to fight out in the open."

"I envy you," she continued. "I envy you so much with your righteous anger. And I am tired of having to simper to that hideous demon of a man and his cohorts. I'm just so tired. So tired." She finished her tirade, the steam going out of her suddenly.

Sirius was silent for a time. Then he met her eyes solemnly, and the depth of understanding in them moved her. Certainly, he could understand the burden of living with something disagreeable. He was a Black, after all. "It must be a hard life."

She gave him a grimace. "I'm used to it."

"No, I was talking about rubbing elbows with Malfoy. Nobody could get used to that toe-rag."

Dorcas couldn't help it. She laughed out loud.

But Sirius' attention was already on something else.

"Look at that," he said and took off.

Bounding down the promenade towards the candy floss stand, she was inevitably reminded of the look Peter threw her way when she first agreed to take Sirius. She _now knew exactly_ how like a child Sirius can be.

But they weren't really old were they. They were hardly out of their teenage years and should be allowed to act like children once in a while.

From her distance, she watched, amused at how he charmed a haggard looking mother of seven children screaming lolly all at the same time. By the time Dorcas reached the candy floss stand, Sirius was holding on to two of the kids, had decked the other two on her leaving the mother to deal with the remaining three and her purchases. The mother gave him a grateful, if agitated, look and thanked both of them profusely.

"She needed a hand." Sirius said as if that explained why he had to run across the beach just to get to a lolly stand.

"Aye, I could see that."

"Mother never really bought sweets for Reg and me."

Dorcas' head shot up catching the grim, far off expression on Sirius face. Then in an instant, it was gone, replaced by the famous grin that had sent a few Hogwarts' hearts swooning.

"Close your eyes." Sirius commanded, his eyes shining mischievously. "I've got a surprise."

"It's candy floss, for Merlin's sake." Dorcas snapped, suddenly uncomfortable with the easy camaraderie that had developed all too quickly. "I saw you buy the bloody thing."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I lost it when they sorted me in Slytherin."

"Come on, close your eyes."

"Bloody Gryffindor," she muttered but shut her eyes anyway.

"Now open your mouth."

Dorcas gave an exasperated sigh before following him.

To her astonishment, it wasn't candy floss, but rather something thick and gooey and slightly tangy and sweet.

"-affy." Dorcas mumbled around a sticky mouthful of apple flavoured taffy and realized that she wasn't really cross with Sirius.

She took a deep breath with eyes still closed, savoring the candy and the sea air, feeling young and oddly content. She tilted her face up to the warmth of the sun, which was too rare in London to waste here.

Feeling a little stickiness at the corner of her mouth, she stuck the tip of her tongue and tried to lick the errant candy.

Suddenly, there was a gentle touch against the corner of her mouth.

"You didn't get it." Sirius said, his voice deep and rough.

Flustered, her eyes shot open and instead of the laughing expression that she expected, Sirius was looking at her intently with eyes that turned dark. And just as quickly, the expression was gone, replaced by the trademark mischievous one.

"See, I told you it was a surprise."

She was thankful that he turned to bound down the promenade again, because at that moment, she had no idea how to respond.

8888

Sirius said he needed to go into town for a while and that he'd meet up with her later that day in the safe house. Dorcas was glad for the separation. She didn't know how to handle the abrupt change in whatever it was that she and Sirius had. It seemed to have happened overnight. A few months ago, he was merely a nuisance- someone that she had no choice but to work with. Then he became somebody that she was angry with because he was so blatantly suspicious of her and because he made it difficult for her to work with him. After he helped her with the Dark Mark, she felt backed into a corner and obligated to be nice to him because of what he did. Just yesterday she was annoyed with his little prank. And now this.

She had no idea why all of a sudden they were laughing and talking comfortably.

Although if she was really honest with herself, the change didn't occur completely overnight since Sirius had been trying to be friendly towards her. When she tried to pinpoint when it began one memory surfaced. It started after she took ill because of the Dark Mark.

Sirius' unwitting confession yesterday about how he saw her and Darcy talking explained it.

After realizing all of this, Dorcas tried to return to her previous state of annoyance, but found that she could no longer bear a grudge against Sirius.

When Dorcas returned to the safe house by the afternoon, she found Sirius on the sofa with his feet propped on the table, reading the town newspaper. A saucer full of cigarette butts was on his lap next to his wand.

"Hey," he greeted when she entered. He took a long drag out of his current stick before stubbing it out then waved his wand around to create a small breeze.

"Sorry about the smoke," Sirius said. "Every body has an addiction, right." Then pointing towards the kitchen he said, "I've got the kettle on and some tea."

Dorcas headed for the kitchen and pulled down a couple of mugs from the cupboard. "Somehow I couldn't picture you drinking tea."

"Why's that?" Sirius asked while he settled himself at the kitchen table.

"Tea is safe. Not wild enough."

"What I wouldn't do for firewhiskey right about now." Then he continued with sham gravity. "But sure we drink tea. Even us wild chaps are sober once in a while."

"Funny." Dorcas said sarcastically.

"You know," Sirius paused to take a sip of tea, "I'm still trying to remember you from Hogwarts. Weren't you the girl who played seeker for only a year."

"No, that was Shirley Johnson."

"Oh, well you have her coloring. I know, didn't you tutor students in Charms or something?"

Dorcas snorted. "Tutor younger students and survive the Slytherin common room. Are you out of your mind? And what were you doing in tutoring sessions, Black?"

"It's Sirius. And there was this Ravenclaw, Joanne or something." He flashed her a sheepish grin.

"Give it up Black; you don't remember me at all. And the Ravenclaw Joanne or something is actually a Jane." What she didn't tell him was that his inability to remember her was because she tried to be as inconspicuous as possible during her stay in Hogwarts. Being obvious while being in Slytherin was a sure way to be hexed by annoyed house mates or overzealous Gryffindors.

"So how come you know all of these people?"

"I used to-" she groped around for a word- "watch people." It was the closest description she could come up with. The time that she didn't spend with Benjy, Marlene and Caradoc, she spent observing people in Hogwarts, chalking up information and trying to decipher their motivations.

"Did you watch me?" Sirius waggled his eyebrows meaningfully and she was suddenly reminded of her initial assessment of Sirius Black when she observed him and his friends in school during her first year- egotistical prat.

She rolled her eyes but did not dignify the comment with a reply.

"I remember reading in the Black library about a Meadowes," Sirius began, changing the topic. "She was a seer. A real one, if I recall correctly."

Dorcas looked up at Sirius in surprise. "Yeah, there was one." She stretched the fingers of her hand one by one and counted off the greats "Great great great great aunt Apollonia."

"So second sight runs in your family?"

Dorcas couldn't help it; she gave a burst of laugher. "Aunt Apollonia's a fluke. My dad couldn't even decide to bring an umbrella just from looking at the sky and would always come home drenched."

But her explanation fell on deaf ears and there was the mischievous look again. "So predict my future."

She eyed him warily. "You're kidding."

"Come on."

Sirius had a completely endearing pleading expression on and she would bet her life he used that expression to get out of detention with some degree of success. Letting out a conceding sigh, she stretched out her hand. "Give me your teacup. And let me warn you, I hated Divination."

She watched while Sirius drained the cup with gusto, spilling a little down the side of his mouth. Taking the teacup, she swirled the dregs a little, then began turning it this way and that trying to decipher images in the unappealing, shapeless lumps.

She waved her arms around and assumed an airy voice. "I see... tea leaves. You are going to get a year's supply of free tea."

"I'm bound to believe you when you said your aunt's a fluke." Sirius said dryly. "Telling corny jokes must be the gene that runs in your family and not second sight."

"Oh, my..." She looked at him, her eyes wide with mock-fear.

"What?"

"I think you have a grim."

"A WHAT?"

"You know, big, black dog supposed..."

Sirius choked and gave her a look as if he couldn't believe what he just heard her say. She wondered if he was superstitious and she had succeeded in scaring him. Old families tended to believe in fortune telling, and the Blacks could probably trace their line for twenty-four generations or so directly to the wizards of Greece or something like that.

"I know what a grim is."

"It's a joke, Black." She said apologetically. It seemed to her she was apologizing a lot these days. "I mean, if I turn the cup some more and squint a little this way, it looks more like a hippogriff. Besides, my grades in Divination were barely Acceptable."

"Um, so what else do you see in there?" A still red faced but finally breathing properly Sirius asked curiously.

"You mean aside from a whole lump of soggy, sodding rose leaves?"

The side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. "Okay, my turn."

Dorcas picked up her cup to finish her tea, when Sirius shook his head. "Your hand," he said, his own outstretched in the same fashion as hers when she asked for his cup. "Palmistry," he explained in a tone that made her feel like she was five. "The left. Your left handed, am I right?"

She was surprised that he noticed. "Oh," was all she could say and surrendered her dominant hand to him.

He cradled her left hand in his right one and traced her fingers with his left hand. "Hmmm..." His head was slightly tilted to one side and bent over her palm; his gaze was intense.

"This is interesting." He said in a low voice. He slowly traced a line from the mound of her middle finger down to her wrist. The skin of her hand was tingling from his touch.

She squirmed in her seat, wanting to tug her hand away from his scrutiny.

"Why?" She asked, finally finding her voice.

"You have a fate line. It's usually fairly faint but yours is quite deep and very jagged. And it's not quite common. See how it intersects with your life line and how it branches over- SHITE!"

The loud rustling from outside the cottage door had them both on their feet with their wands out.

_Bloody Hell._ Dorcas thought. _They couldn't have been discovered this quickly, could they?_

They both headed for the door and stood on either side of the frame. Dorcas met Sirius' eyes. He answered her small nod with one of his own and mouthed, one, two, three.

Sirius blasted the door open the same time that Dorcas leveled her wand on the intruder.

"Eep..." A shaken Peter Pettigrew squeaked at the wrong end of Dorcas' wand.

Dorcas gave him a wan smile and ushered him into the cottage.

"Bollocks Peter!" Sirius said exasperated as he checked the outside of the cottage and shut the door.

"Well, Dumbledore wanted me to personally tell you guys to go home. He needs you to- Merlin Sirius, maybe you could stop pointing your wand at me." Peter slipped a handkerchief from his robes and wiped his brow.

"I'm not really in the mood to do that." Sirius growled but put his wand down anyway.

"Thank you. Anyway, Dumbledore needs you to-" Peter threw Dorcas a look.

Dorcas raised both hands. "I'm going into the other room."

Once they heard the door click shut, Peter continued. "The Headmaster wants you to look for Remus. He has something to give or say to Remus, don't really know and nobody can find him."

"It's the full moon in a couple of days, did you check his parents' place? The caves? The tunnels? The Shrieking Shack? The Forbidden Forest?" Sirius listed all the places that Remus usually went to during his transformations. "He could just be preparing. You know, checking the wards, replacing the spells."

"I think James checked those already. He was looking Remus, but Dumbledore needed him for something else and I can't. We really didn't want to disturb your vacation." Peter tilted his head meaningfully towards the bedroom.

Sirius gave him a mocking laugh. "Haha, Wormtail," he said but his mind was on Remus and his already growing suspicions regarding his friend's activities.

* * *

AN:  
Thanks for the reviews; they were absolutely flattering and encouraging. 


	24. Chapter Twenty one

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended. 

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

**Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"**

**Chapter Twenty-one**

Dorcas shut the door to her apartment with relief. The time she spent away from London may have removed some of the growing tension in her job but she wasn't sure she was comfortable with the changes between her and Sirius.

She stared for sometime at the package in her hands before unwrapping it to reveal a large bottle filled with a dark liquid foaming at the top. Before they parted at the Apparition point, Sirius had pressed the package into her arms without any explanation.

She opened the accompanying note wrapped with the bottle. Inside, written in Sirius' bold cursive, was the label Aunt Eladora's sleeping draught followed by instructions on how to take what was in the bottle. At the bottom of the set of instructions was a message.

_Tell me how it works out._

She knew before she even poured out a measure of the liquid that she would drink it. Her lack of hesitation troubled her. Was possible for such a level of trust to develop overnight? She was a staunch believer in earning trust. It was the rational way to act. Everybody has some secret, she of all people exemplifies that. Yet she trusted him enough to drink this. There were no second thoughts. There wasn't even some form of internal debate to at least assuage her mind. No, she _feels_ she can trust him. And considering how numb she has been feeling lately, that scares her more than she was willing to admit.

She gulped the drink and wrinkled her nose in distaste, partly for the horrid taste and partly because she actually did drink it. Then she prepared for bed, dreading the nightmares that would come.

8888

"After the examiner hands you the documents, you are to take them to the head licenser for the final approval. Then you file them in our records. The job is simple enough." Mr. Grapple gave her a small sneer and raised his eyebrows. "Any questions?"

Dorcas returned what she hoped was an enthusiastic smile. "No sir."

"Good, because if you are aware of Mrs. Edgecombe's reputation as a Ministry watchdog, she would not be pleased if there are people being lazy on the govs pay. Now I have to get back to preparing the paperwork for the George Street incident, the poor muggles, and I don't really have time to answer inane questions."

Eight attacks in the past few days and most of the victims were muggles. It wasn't just a statement against muggleborns anymore. Some of the attacks were just meant to scare the muggles- cars flying, houses shaken to the foundations- but two of the eight involved murder. The muggle Minister must be either very angry or very scared right now.

Dorcas resisted the urge to sigh and turned to the paperwork in front of her. When Althea Tutela told her that she was going to have a new cover job because of the temporary closure of the Prophecy Division, Dorcas prepared herself to push papers. That didn't mean she would enjoy it. Typical of most of the Incolumitas Division members' cover jobs, she was given clerical work, this time with the Apparition Test Center.

While she alphabetized and categorized various names and Apparition license numbers, she thought about the meeting with Tutela. It was the second time since Dorcas started working with the Incolumitas Division that she had seen Tutela's door-less and windowless office bare. Usually, the magical ceiling would mimic the outside sky but instead it revealed the dark gray of the craggy stones. Then Tutela simply asked for a brief rundown of events and assigned her a new cover without asking for her thoughts on the matter. It was a deviation from Tutela's routine and it alarmed Dorcas but she tried reasuring herself that it could also simply be due to the war.

On the other hand, it wasn't all strange occurrences. Benjy had returned from his mission and she was able to talk to him a little before having to report to the Apparition Test Center. He said that although his trip was the typical following around of various suspects, he was able to hear something about unusual shipments into England from the North. Dorcas filed the bit of information in her mind, knowing that Dumbledore would want to hear about that.

The banter with him and Jillian comforted Dorcas a bit, considering the numerous changes in the past few days.

A muffled voice coming from her coat pocket distracted Dorcas from the monotonous filing. She pulled out her communicating speculum and saw Sirius giving her cheeky grin.

"So how's the draught?" He whispered.

Dorcas shook her head and looked around.

"Joshua," Dorcas called out to a fellow clerk, "I'm heading for the loo."

Only after making sure the bathroom was empty, magically locking the door and securing herself inside one of the stalls did Dorcas dare to take out the mirror.

"I just changed my cover, Black. I'm not the only clerk anymore. There's five of us now."

"Sorry." Sirius said sheepishly. "And when are you planning to call me Sirius?"

"So why did you contact me?" Dorcas asked, ignoring his question. In the safehouse, their newly found friendship seemed to have developed naturally but now that they were back, it felt surreal and she wasn't quite ready to handle it.

"I was wondering about the draught."

She suddenly felt guilty. The sleeping draught was different from her old one, whose effects were only enough to put her to sleep but wasn't able to keep her nightmares at bay. The one he had given worked like a charm and for the first time in so many years, she had been able to sleep dreamlessly. She couldn't remember the last time she had woken up feeling rested.

"Fantastic stuff, that potion. Made me sleep like a babe. You should sell it, should be very marketable." She replied honestly.

"I'll name it Binns in a Bottle. I'm sure it'll out sell Firewhiskey."

"I doubt it's _that_ good. It induces sleep, not lowering of inhibitions."

"Maybe it won't outsell Odgens. Lowered inhibitions after all is the point, don't you think," Sirius mused. "No hangover though."

"And whose inhibitions do you want lowered, Black?"

Sirius just gave her a toothy grin. "So no more nightmares?"

Dorcas shook her head.

"That's good. Any plans for lunch?"

Dorcas bit her lip. "Not a good idea, Black."

"You're right. You better return to your work. I shouldn't have bothered you. What is your new cover, by the way?"

"Filing for the Apparition Test Center."

"I can just imagine the kind of paperwork involved with Splinching cases. Will they ever send you out to pick up left behind body parts?"

"If they send me out to pick up something hideous, I'll let you know." She tried sounding annoyed but couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from turning up. "I better get back, Sirius."

Sirius nodded his goodbye, leaving Dorcas wondering about his sudden smile right before the mirror went blank.

8888

"If you would follow me, Miss." Candles near the back lit up at the wave of the hostess wand, directing Dorcas to her table. Regulus was nowhere to be found. She was dreading her first meeting with him since the proposal in Grimmauld Place and had managed to push the thought to the back of her mind during her time out of London.

"Cassie. I'm sorry I'm late." Regulus kissed her hand.

"It's all right. I was early." Dorcas feigned smiling. "It's good to see you up and about."

"I couldn't stay in bed forever. There were _Things_ to attend to."

Dorcas scrutinized his expression, trying to see if there was any suspicion on his part. But all she saw was a smooth practiced facade; unlike the one he had shown her in Grimmauld Place. It put her guard up all the more.

_Things?_ She made an encouraging sound, hoping that Regulus would continue.

"Things? I didn't get any summons." Dorcas prompted after the waiter who took their order left.

Regulus gave her an uncomfortable look.

Dorcas leaned across the table, touched the scar on his forhead and reached for his hand. Then she gave him a reassuring look.

"You really don't have to tell me."

She was aware that she shouldn't be getting information this way. It was one thing to follow people around stealthily; it was another to play with their feelings. It wasn't unusual for a spy to play a honey trap; a lot of Unspeakables did it, but so far she had avoided doing so. At least until now.

She knew that it was related to the letter that she had been threatened to deliever to him while he was injured. To say that the letter was important was an understatement. It was so important that They (she had been thinking of them in capital pronouns lately) had wanted it hand delivered and had sent people to check its progress. As to why she was the one asked to deliver the letter, perhaps it was to avoid any government suspicion since as far as she last checked her reputation was still above board. Regulus looked at their linked hands then gave her a smile. "They want me to handle something big and I know it's going to make mother and father proud."

"It must be something really big if it will make your parents proud. Something with muggles, then?" Dorcas tried to keep excessive curiosity from her voice.

"Bigger than just targeting muggles. Something to get the Dumbledore supporters."

"Dumbledore's supporters, would this mean Potter?"

"Well, of course. It's no secret that Potter is one of his biggest supporters. The thing is, it's more than that. Do you know how those that remain loyal to Dumbledore are always on the scene after a mission?"

It took all of Dorcas' restraint not to swallow audibly.

"Lucius thinks," Regulus continued, "that it isn't just a case of Dumbledore's supporters being in the area. He thinks that the old man is more organized than we give him credit for. He's shared his suspicions to the Dark Lord."

"You mean Dumbledore has an army?" Dorcas sneered, hoping she'd come off as incredulous.

"More like a group. Something like the Aurors. At least Lucius thinks so. We do have to give the old man credit, he is very very good."

"And what did the Dark Lord say?"

He shrugged. "That's it, that's all I can say." Then Regulus leaned forward and touched her lips. "This is our secret, okay."

Suddenly, Dorcas couldn't keep the question in any longer. "What about your brother? He and Potter are friends. If Potter is in this 'group' then..." .

For a moment, Regulus looked very angry, then very softly he answered, "he should have chosen a better side, the powerful side. I hope the Black name will protect him. Anyway, what about you? How's the new job?"

Dorcas ignored Regulus' tone of finality; the need for more information made her risk the line of questioning. "Is it going to be dangerous?" She asked worriedly in a last ditch attempt to keep him on the topic.

"I really can't talk about it, Cassie."

Dorcas wrinkled her brow further.

Regulus sighed.

"Yes. There will be things beyond our control, but we will be prepared. That's it. I'd rather we talk about other things. Such as," Regulus paused and lowered his gaze to study their intertwined hands, "you know... What we were talking about the last time we saw each other."

The polished facade was gone and in its place was such a wishful expression that Dorcas was mentally cursing herself for having to play this role.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet." She began hesitantly, trying to gauge his expression. Regulus went very still, his expression freezing on his face. "Regulus, I just feel that we're so young and we're just getting to know each other."

"But you're thinking about it?"

It was his expression that made her do it, rather than any amount of cunning or dedication to her cause. When he asked her, he looked very much like a child, desperate, lonely and unloved. From what she knew of his family, she had no idea if he even felt loved as a child. Perhaps from Sirius, but from his parents, she was uncertain. And to begrudge him of what he was seeking seemed cruel. Yet to pretend was even worse. So she gave him the only thing that she could- a possibility.

"Of course." She answered, smoothing out the lines that developed on his brow. And she pondered how even those with the most inhuman beliefs were only human and how rejection would hurt them just as much.

Later on, it was with this thought in mind that persuaded Dorcas to open her hand and weave her fingers through Regulus' gently searching ones while he walked her back to the Ministry.

* * *

A couple, whom Sirius recognized as Voldemort supporters, puttered around his shop, speaking in low voices and glancing once in a while in his direction. Sirius tried to look nonchalant by cataloguing the just delivered antiques, all the while trying to make out their conversation.

It had been like that the entire day; people coming to his shop and buying some cursed item. The Ministry and the Order weren't able to do anything about the eight separate attacks that happened during the time he was away with Dorcas. The Death Eaters were getting bolder with their attacks and were getting away with them, prompting the Purebloods who used to straddle the line to be a bit more vocal with their support. Particularly in Knockturn Alley.

The peal of a bell on the counter announced another customer.

Dorcas entered and headed straight for the knives on display, without making eye contact. They never acknowledged each other in public unless she was with Regulus and he didn't think she would do so now, not with all the Pureblood enthusiasts milling about.

She made her way down an aisle giving the items a cursory glance, while keeping a close watch on the other customers. Then she stopped for a moment, studying an overstuffed puffskein with an expression that was mostly amusement mixed with a small part of distaste. It was once the property of an eccentric witch with a predilection for creative uses of a freezing spell. The puffskein finally lost her interest and she moved on. She spent a few more minutes looking at the bottled body parts of magical creatures then she left the shop.

It was only during closing that Sirius dared stop by the hideous puffskein. In its mouth was a tiny folded piece of parchment addressed to Dumbledore.

8888

"Ya really must be seeking fer trouble, coming out 'ere this close to moonrise. I'm gonna hang the sign soon, don't wanna be out with these buggers," the bartender muttered as he handed Sirius a pint.

Sirius wasn't in the best of moods. He may agree with the man's sentiment but he didn't appreciate being told.

Since he delivered Dorcas' note to Dumbledore earlier that evening, he had hoped to pass by The Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer and Madam Rosmerta's company. Instead, Dumbledore told him to look for Remus. The places where Remus usually goes to transform were devoid of any signs of life, much like what Peter reported that James had found. Then he remembered this place- the Bloodshot Moon; the werewolf bar where he had once followed Remus.

Sirius realized that it was dangerous to leave him with his musings and a few pints of really bad lager. The longer he thought about the possible business Remus had in the place, the wilder his conjectures became and the more pissed he got.

"I remember ya. The WCU chap with the balls," the bartender announced in his gravely voice and continued to hover over him. "Yea capture any werewolves lately?" Sirius prayed nobody heard him.

"No, not WCU."

"Oh ya. That's right. I was the one tellin' you about 'em idiots who go here hopin' to catch one of the wolfies." The bartender sent out a snort. "Wait, I 'member. You were lookin' for your boyfriend. This so height with 'em lined eyes, shabby clothes."

"Not my boyfriend. A friend."

"Riiiight. A friend." The bartender gave him a wink. "Ah can help. He was chatting up some of 'em yesterday."

"Over there?" Sirius jerked his head towards a table with a couple of boys and a girl. Although attired in an assortment of leather, ripped jeans, and heavy make-up, upon closer inspection, they were actually a year or two younger than Sirius.

"Thanks." Sirius muttered as he tossed the bartender enough quid for his drinks and a few more. Then he headed over to the group trying to look as friendly as possible.

The two boys immediately stiffened up. The one of them, a boy with multiple piercings on various appendages actually bared his teeth in a gesture that Sirius recognized as an exertion of dominance.

_Ah, the Alpha. _

It was a very common wolfish behavior, one that tended to assert itself close to the full moon. He had even seen Remus do this before, albeit rarely, during prefect rounds particularly when they would come across an upperclassman bullying a first former.

Sirius bowed his head in deference to the boy's authority, even if he was stronger and older. He needed their cooperation; he wasn't planning on kicking their shaggy arses. Besides in a werewolf bar, if a rumble broke out he knew precisely who the odd man out was. As he neared the table, the second boy deliberately placed his leg on the only empty chair.

"How can I help you?" The alpha male's cultured tones surprised Sirius.

"I was hoping you could help me find a friend of mine. This tall, black hair, a bit worn looking."

The three teens didn't answer. Instead they eyed him, stopping deliberately where his hands were fingering the wand in his pocket. Sirius stilled his fingers but did not remove his hands. The girl then leaned over to whisper something to the alpha male. The alpha frowned then whispered something back.

Finally, "give the man a seat," the alpha male ordered the other boy.

"And what is this man to you?" The alpha asked once Sirius was sitting down.

"A friend of mine who had gone missing."

"Wolves tend to do that during on the day of the full moon as well as the days before and after for that matter."

"I was told that he talked to you before he had gone missing."

The boy performed a very Gallic shrug and Sirius was struck by how young the werewolf truly was.

"You say that this man is your friend?"

"Yes." Sirius answered tersely. They were going around in circles and he didn't appreciate the fact that the one in charge was a boy younger than him. Someone, Sirius now realized, who was a muggle werewolf.

"There is no way for you to prove that to us."

And Sirius realized had no answer to that. He could tell them Remus' full name, his birthday, his favorite color, his underwear size, his first crush, but there was no way he could prove to this group that he, an ordinary person was almost brothers with a wolf.

"You're right. But he is my friend and he is missing."

The girl once again leaned towards the alpha male and whispered something. Then she stared at Sirius through her lashes.

"Celine says that your 'friend' was a nice person and we would not want to tell you something that he did not want you to know."

"I was out of town. He really didn't have the time to chit chat with me."

"If your concern is for your friend's safety, then you should know that he is safe and that should be enough. If you have other designs…" The boy shrugged again. "If you do not know what he wanted to talk to us about, then my guess is he did not want you to know."

Sirius was becoming impatient. His hand tightened around his wand.

"Don't," the boy said, raising his eyebrow meaningfully. "There are things that only reveal themselves in their own time. Now go while the moon is just starting to rise, before you do something regretful."

Sirius recognized the invitation to leave for the warning that it was and left the bar not any closer to solving the problem than before.

8888

Wand out, Sirius staggered to the back of his house ready to crash as Padfoot on to the rug just beyond the door. Too hell with dignity, his dog form tended to feel headaches with less intensity than he did.

When his search for Remus turned out to be a failure, he spent the rest of the night moving from muggle bar to muggle bar- something that he hasn't done for some time since the war started- and proceeded to flirt with the patrons and drink himself into oblivion.

He wanted to kill himself for not thinking his plan through to the hangover.

Concentrating on the cottony feel of his mouth and willing it to properly form the right spell words, he didn't notice the man lurking by his door.

"Sirius." The voice was low and hoarse.

Sirius jumped in surprise and ended up retching on the ground. Remus wrinkled his nose in distaste as some of Sirius' stomach contents ended on his shoe.

Sirius used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Give a bloke some warning."

"I was hoping to bunk for a while before going to my parents place. I don't really want them to see me like this." Then looking at Sirius with concern "must have been some night, huh."

Sirius retched in reply. "The wards," he said weakly.

Remus undid the wards with ease.

Once in the apartment and away from the prying eyes of his nosy neighbors, Sirius transfigured into Padfoot and collapsed on his couch. His mind barely registered Remus puttering about until he found him holding a dog dish James had given years ago as a gag gift, filled with a hangover potion.

Remus also had an overly innocent expression on his face.

He growled before lapping up the potion.

"Moony, you could have given it in a glass." Sirius finally said, once the dog dish was lying empty on the coffee table.

Remus gave him a big smile. With teeth.

Sirius, in human form, growled again.

The smile grew wider.

"You owe me, so I'm showering first."

Sirius nodded. "Don't bother with wearing your clothes again. Feel free to choose from mine. Just don't use the shirt hanging by the door, I haven't worn it yet. And don't be deceived by the blue jumper, it needs cleaning. Or the..."

Remus' head popped out from behind the bedroom door. "Feel free?"

Sirius grinned his first genuine smile of the day.

It was only when he had sobered up a bit when he realized that Remus was favoring his left arm. The transformations themselves were painful, compounded by the scratches and bites Remus would inflict on himself. Remus usually needed the day after the full moon to recover. Yet, aside from the way Remus held his left arm, he seemed well, almost energetic. Sirius had never seen him like this the day after a transformation.

_Medical care? A pack?_ _Experimental potion?_

He had no idea how Remus could be up and about this early the day after a full moon. But more importantly, how come Remus didn't want to tell them about it.

The bathroom door swung open releasing a goodly amount of steam and Remus clad in a jumper and jeans.

"So Moony, where'd you spend last night? We were looking for you."

"The tunnels you and James found."

Sirius had checked the tunnels and all of its tributaries; it was the last place he went to before heading for the werewolf bar. He turned to face Remus, trying to find all the telltale signs he had learned to spot whenever his friend was lying. Remus wasn't giving anything away, yet at the same time Sirius couldn't shake the feeling that he was keeping something from them.

"You spent the whole day there?"

"Uh huh. Brought a book along, spent the day catching up on my reading. I didn't want mum and dad to worry. You know how they are."

_Remus, Remus, Remus. What are you hiding?_

"Besides," Remus dropped into the couch next to Sirius and continued, "I reckon James would rather spend the time with Lily than run around with a bunch of mangy animals. Not that I'm saying Padfoot has mange."

Sirius was about to grill him further, but Remus' eyes were already starting to droop and only politeness kept him from crashing completely. He was torn between his suspicions and his loyalty towards his friend, but decided that in the mean time, Remus deserved the rest. As for Remus working for Voldemort, Sirius didn't want to think about its implications just yet.

But no matter how he tried to avoid it, his mind wouldn't stop guessing how many deaths would result if the Order did have a traitor especially someone that trusted and high up in the ranks.

Later, when Remus left his place, Sirius changed his wards.

* * *

**AN:** to -Behind.The.Picture-, Butterfly Cobra, je suis une pizza, Kendra-the hyper one, Janessea., Dark Morwen 863, isis uf, Angel alexekia2222 and all the other readers: thank you 


	25. Chapter Twentytwo

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

**Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"**

**Chapter Twenty-two**

"Mobilus," Dorcas said and watched as the snake carvings slithered around the wooden frame of the door to allow her entrance. Access to the hall was only granted when Voldemort summoned and she purposely came early to gather information before she faced the Dark Lord.

She surveyed the room, trying to recognize as many people as she can despite the identical flowing robes and the white masks. There were more wizards now than the last time she was here, evidence of the frenzied recruiting Voldemort's supporters were doing.

Trying to be inconspicuous, she moved among the Death Eaters, picking up snatches of conversation. She skirted a few badly aimed spells as she went by where some of the more novice Death Eaters were dueling and tried to get close to the long tables where the more intellectually driven of the group- some probably under Imperious- were researching what looked to her like spells. The books were similar to the ones she had seen when she wandered into the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library during her prefect days. The other books were indecipherable, written in a strange hand, most likely ancient. Dorcas made sure she had a good look at these, knowing that once she recorded her memory, Dumbledore- and perhaps Jillian- would be able to interpret them. When more than one of the wizards started looking at her suspiciously, she moved towards another part of the room. She generally avoided the shadowy corners, where she knew couples or even groups would be engaged in trysts. In flagrante delicto.

The monstrous stone fireplace where she had seen Voldemort's Potion Master had around eight cauldrons simmering simultaneously in its green flames. Remembering Dumbledore's interest in the fact that Voldemort had a potion master, Dorcas headed in that direction. If she could catch a glimpse of the ingredients and they could hazard a guess as to what potions and poisons Voldemort had in his arsenal.

"Meadowes." A hand clamped down on her elbow, jerking her away from the fireplace and the potion master.

"Rabastan, don't manhandle me." Dorcas replied evenly, pulling her arm away from his grasp.

Rabastan Lestrange merely bowed and waved his hand in the direction of one of the alcoves.

Red eyes peered at her from the shadows, followed by a pale, bony hand motioning her forward.

"Rabastan is only obeying my orders, Meadowes." The voice hissed at her and Dorcas willed her feet to move, dodging Voldemort's pet snake that slithered around her feet. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Voldemort's form solidified, the edges of his robes first, followed by the thin hands resting on the arms of the throne he was sitting on.

_Don't look into his eyes. Be alert._

"Meadowes." His voice echoed as he called her forward, but Dorcas wasn't sure if he was speaking or if it came from inside her head.

At the bottom of the dais, Dorcas knelt and bowed her head, fearing eye contact. She felt his hand rest lightly on her head. His long fingers rasped softly against the cloth of the hood of her robe. But there was no warmth from his touch; there was no body heat radiating through the cloth.

"I have a special task for you, my child." His voice was soft, pulling at her mind.

"I will do what you ask, my lord," Dorcas replied, keeping her head bowed.

Her mind was getting muddled and she knew that Voldemort was weaving some spell on her, but she has no idea what. This was the first time she encountered a charm or spell like this. She needed to focus her mind. She concentrated on her own voice, the alternating rhythm of her heartbeat and the itch on her knees where the craggy stones were biting into the skin.

"My child, you will get the plans for the trains running from Platform nine and three quarters."

"My lord, those plans are kept in Edgecombe's office. It will take time." Her voice sounded hollow. Dorcas couldn't understand why her voice sounded as if it came from outside her body, as if from the other end of a long tunnel.

"You are an intelligent and capable witch of superior blood. You will bring it to me as soon as possible."

There was no room for disagreement, Dorcas knew and so in a hollow voice that she hardly recognized as her own, she answered, "yes, my lord."

8888

Waiting. It's funny, Dorcas realized, how the word waiting only applies to situations, which were wanted. Birthdays. Vacations. True love? Dorcas resisted the urge to snort at her thoughts. When things weren't desired, it was hardly waiting, more like a stay of execution.

For some reason, she realized that she has been spending a lot of time waiting- definitely the wrong word- for Regulus, who copied his propensity to be late from the Malfoy mentality that the rich wait for nobody.

To be fair, she didn't think time spent with Regulus as awful as she once did. It wasn't enjoyable either. It just was, she supposed. A fact of life, like having to eat, going on attacks, attending Death Eater meetings or reporting to Tutela. After two weeks of meeting him for lunch or dinner or just having him bring her home after work, waiting for him was slowly becoming part of her routine.

She nursed her glass of wine while she watched the comings and goings of the young elite of Wizarding Society. Expensive wines were the du jour; fifteen year old brandies were downed like water. Billywig stings were passed along together with some muggle narcotic rolled like a cigarette.

_I have to ask Sirius about that one._

There had been ten Death Eater attacks in the past five days according to The Daily Prophet. More actually, if one includes muggle attacks and the ones stopped by the Order or the Aurors but those weren't reported in the Prophet.

But that was out there. In this club, the party was just getting started and the Warbling Wonders, the next 'in' thing, were performing so who cares about a few dead bodies being discovered.

Dead bodies...

Dorcas closed her eyes for a moment and tried to erase the image of the people that they were unable to help during the Death Eater attacks. No matter how much quicker they acted, no matter how they tried to think ahead of the Death Eaters, both wizards and muggles alike still died during the attacks. The sheer number of the new Death Eaters was overwhelming. Then there were the ones under the Imperius. Plus the Inferi.

"Hi," Regulus greeted as he slipped into the booth next to her and broke through her thoughts. "Have they been playing long?"

Dorcas opened her eyes and gave him a big smile, trying to put some heart into it. She felt bad about having to deceive him. After spending majority of her time with him, she realized that minus the political stand, Regulus Black was actually a nice guy when he was being himself and not trying to imitate Lucius.

"No. Third song."

"Good. I haven't missed much. I've been wanting to hear them live." Regulus nodded his head in time with the music. He draped one arm around Dorcas and pulled her closer. For the first time in two weeks, she pushed her unease aside and allowed herself to relax in his arms and was suddenly struck by a feeling of deja vu. His warmth, his arms around her was oddly familiar yet wrong somehow.

She mentally shook her head and tried to concentrate on the questions that she needed to ask him.

"How was your day?" Dorcas tried to be heard over the din.

"All right."

"So how'd it go?"

"How'd what go?"

"Oh, come on Reg. You know what I'm talking about."

Regulus stopped watching the stage and looked down at her. His forehead was furrowed; his eyes were dark.

"You really want to talk about that now?"

"I was just wondering about your day. Small talk. I asked, you said all right. What else was I supposed to ask? How are your parents?" Dorcas asked annoyed. She knew she should backtrack. Whenever they were together, she always managed to put in some discussion about Death Eater business and Regulus was starting to show displeasure. But she couldn't help it. Voldemort was planning something big- information floating around the Incolumitas Division and the few snatches of conversation she could get in the lair pointed to that- and it somehow involved the note that she dropped off at Grimmauld Place weeks ago. Her parents' political leanings affected her position among the Death Eaters; they still didn't trust her completely and the only link she had to that information was Regulus.

Yet, instead of getting annoyed like she expected, Regulus smiled. "Nothing more mood breaking than talking about my parents, huh. Yeah, DE stuff is definitely better."

Dorcas turned towards the band and clapped when they finished the song.

"I was just a bit worried about you with this big 'thing' you keep meeting about. I don't really trust Lucius to have your back, Reg."

"Lucius is a very skilled wizard."

"I'm not talking about his abilities." Then trying again, "it seems as if what you're about to do is pretty dangerous."

"How much more dangerous can it get, compared to what we do?" Regulus squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry."

"At least tell me what you're dealing with. Breaking into the Ministry of Magic?"

Regulus snorted. "We don't need to break into the Ministry. We have enough men working there."

"Attacking Hogwarts?"

"Let's just enjoy the music, Cassie."

"Werewolves?" Dorcas tried, remembering the werewolf scare that Emmeline brought up in the last Order meeting she attended.

The stiffening of his body and the concentrated effort he put into watching the band told her she was on to something.

"I hope what you have planned isn't on a full moon."

He rolled his eyes. "What's the point if it isn't on a full moon. That would just make them bloody normal."

"This coming full moon? That would be so soon to lose you to a werewolf bite." She gave him a worried look and inwardly sighed in relief when his expression softened.

"No. Most likely the following one." Then Regulus took something out of his coat pocket and passed it to her under the table. "Dorcas, I didn't want to give this until later, so that at least we can enjoy the night. But since we are talking business, might as well..."

She reached under the table, realized that it was a piece of parchment and dropped it into her purse.

"It's from Lucius. That's it. No more shop talk."

Regulus flashed her a smile that looked eerily like Sirius' then dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Let's enjoy the song."

She paused to finally listen. She had to give him credit, he did have good taste in music.

The band ended their performance a little past one and when they stepped out of the club, it was raining. Regulus insisted on walking her home, rather than the of the two of them Apparating so it was two by the time she had slipped into her apartment and was able to read Lucius' note. In it was a detailed plan on a new attack.

Taking out her communicating speculum, she called Sirius. A moment later, a disheveled looking and yawning Sirius responded.

"Somebody better had died." Sirius grumbled.

"Sorry. I got information on a mission but I wasn't informed on a date and time." Dorcas gave him an apologetic shrug.

He nodded, finally alert. "And it might be scheduled for tomorrow," then frowning when he realized the time, "I mean tonight."

"The mission calls for a five man-"

Raising his hand, Sirius interrupted. "Why don't we just meet? I was planning to give you the shifty nine and three quarters plans James drew up tomorrow- this morning anyway. We can't have Voldemort's supporters waiting. Two weeks is long enough as it is."

"Okay."

Sirius frowned. "No, on second thought, it might be too dangerous for you to meet me at Knockturn Alley this time of night. We can do this tomorrow. Just tell me about the mission."

"No, I'll meet you at the shop. I'll be safe. Besides, getting the plans would be good. I can owl it to Malfoy before he decides to drop by the office. Again. The bastard's been hounding me all week."

He shot her a worried look. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

8888

The rain tapped an unknown rhythm against the canvas awning in time with the soft rush of the water draining from the streets. Dorcas pressed her back against the cool glass of the shop door and kept her wand pointed towards Knockturn Alley.

A dark shape materialized across the street and dashed through the rain. He was only a few feet away, before she recognized Sirius' face through the sheeting rain and she moved slightly to her right to make room for him under the awning.

Once he had taken shelter from the rain, he shook his head vigorously, water flying from his hair.

"Hey!" Dorcas wiped at the droplets on her face.

Sirius flashed her a charming smile as he held the door to the shop open for her.

Dorcas took a few tentative steps forward, then stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, shuddering at the sight of the stuffed puffskein in the low light. The snapping shut of the door behind her made her jump. Then something warm- Sirius' hand, she supposed- settled at the small of her back causing the skin to tingle and she felt as well as heard his whisper against her ear.

"We could cast a spell you know. Lumos."

The glow from the tip of his wand illuminated the cramped antique shop and made Sirius' eyes turn a deep gray and she was suddenly conscious of how close they were. Dorcas concentrated on not looking at him.

She reached for her own wand, tucked inside her sleeve.

"Lumos."

"Careful, Dorcas."

He was pointing at something by her feet and she followed his hand, realizing that she had stopped just in time. She would have tripped over a box of oak divining rods, priced at ten knuts a piece, which looked remarkably like muggle bathroom dowels.

"I was afraid we might be seen from the outside." She whispered.

"The windows are charmed not to show anything on the inside at night." He explained as walked her towards the back of the shop, keeping his hand at the small of her back. She looked at him from over her shoulder, trying to gauge his reaction, and instead found that he was focused on keeping them from tripping over the knickknacks that spilled from the overladen bottom shelves onto the floor.

"You know, I never really pictured you as a shop owner. If you asked me years ago in Hogwarts what you'd be doing, this wouldn't even cross my mind." Dorcas said conversationally, distracting herself from the comforting warmth of Sirius behind her.

Sirius gave a sarcastic laugh. "Wasn't planned. Dumbledore asked because he needed someone listening in Knockturn Alley. So I quit Auror Training and reopened my Uncle's shop."

Auror Training was exactly what she imagined Sirius would be doing and she told him so.

"Don't you miss it?"

"Yeah, when I first quit, I missed it every day- the duels, the evasion and capture training. Especially when we'd meet up with Lily and she'd tell me a bit about her day. But you sort of get used to this." He shrugged. "To be honest every now and then the lack of action gets to me. I was thinking of rejoining in a few years. But Dumbledore needs me here, now. Besides, if it weren't for this, I wouldn't have been your contact."

His last statement surprised Dorcas and she looked up in time to catch him flash her a smile. It was quite unlike any of his previous ones. It wasn't mischievous and he wasn't trying to be charming. It was warm and genuine and the tightening in the pit of her stomach scared her.

The office at the back of the shop was small and crowded with unopened inventory. The desk that occupied most of the space was piled up with parchment and quills. Judging from the numbers on the parchments, Sirius was _trying_ to keep the books. Dorcas thought the room reflected perfectly Sirius' apathy towards being a shopkeeper.

He pulled up chairs for them and offered her the more comfortable of the two.

"Thanks for getting me wet, by the way," she said jokingly, hoping to cut through the awkwardness she was feeling.

She could hear his soft breaths of barely controlled laughter. "Dorcas, you looked like you needed a bath."

"So you decided to take one for me?"

He ran his hands through his hair then flicked the water towards her. "A little water doesn't hurt anyone."

"You might want to rethink that philosophy before you try that again." She retorted while waving her wand threateningly.

"Is that a challenge?" He was grinning mischievously, his eyes twinkling.

She wasn't sure why her cheeks felt warm but she ducked her head to avoid looking at him, and retrieved instead Lucius' note from inside her robe.

"Malfoy's instructions."

Sirius read the note, nodding occasionally. "I'll see that the Headmaster and Moody gets it. So it's the Rileys this time."

"Aye. I'm just hoping well be able to change this one." Dorcas said emphatically. "There've been so many attacks and too many deaths."

"Hey," Sirius reached out his hand and squeezed hers. "Hang in there. We'll get the bloody bastards."

She took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Although, are you aware what Renton Riley is known for? You might not be as nice if you find out."

"Riley senior supposedly funds Death Eater missions. At least that's what the file in the Department of Mysteries say."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "But not what you've heard from Voldemort's supporters."

She shook her head. "Lucius pretty much oversees operations, including funding and he doesn't really share information. But then, nobody in the group really knows much beyond what their assignment is. It's his cunning that keeps his name clean. You'd be surprised but the Ministry probably has a longer list of suspicious activities in your cousin Adromeda Tonk's file than in Malfoy's"

"Bloody facts of life," Sirius said sarcastically. "By the by, Riley has no loyalties except to his Galleons. My father introduced him to me in one of those 'soirees' my parents used to hold. Father would laugh with Riley like they were old school chums. But once he and Malfoy were alone he would talk as if the Rileys of the world were the source of everything that was wrong. Father thought that Riley was trying to buy his blood line respectability."

"Well, not everybody can be pureblooded and nobody can choose how they are born."

"True. And after attending a few of those parties that Mother threw, I don't know why anybody would want to be a pureblood. Boring bunch of buggers."

Dorcas laughed. "Anyway, I suspect Riley grew a conscience, pulled out his funding. I'll try to see why he's being targeted, but it's going to be difficult. Lucius doesn't exactly share his thoughts with us."

Then she pulled out a package from her robes. Sirius could hear its contents tinkling softly. "It's for Dumbledore."

"Another scary view of Voldemort's lair?" Sirius half joked.

Dorcas bit her lip and shook her head. They were Keepsake Glasses, which contained her memories of the information she got out of Regulus regarding the mission involving nine and three quarters. She needed to tell Sirius about her 'relationship' with Regulus. She knew he would appreciate hearing it from her rather than finding out some other way but she could not bring herself to offer an explanation that would be interpreted as an excuse.

"I'm sorry," she said instead.

"What for?"

"Never mind."

Sirius shot her a confused look but placed the package carefully in his coat pocket and handed her a miniaturized parchment.

"The nine and three quarters plans."

Dorcas inserted the plans carefully into a secret pocket in her coat. It was awhile before she realized that Sirius had gone quiet and she found him looking at her intently. Averting her eyes, she said, "I have to go. It isn't safe for me to stay here too long."

"Yeah." His voice had gone very low. "You have to go first. I'll leave ten minutes after you."

Dorcas made sure that the plans were virtually undetectable in her coat. Then she checked her wands: her main one sat comfortably in the palm of her hand and the extra one was hidden up her sleeve, ready to fall into her palm with a flick of her wrist.

All of a sudden, she felt Sirius' arms envelope her from behind. She felt the rising and falling of his chest against her back and his breath softly ruffling her hair. Into her ear he whispered, "be safe."

And just as suddenly, the embrace was over. Dorcas left the shop without looking back. She felt she couldn't have, even if she wanted to.

* * *

Sirius tried to sleep the remainder of the night but found himself tossing and turning. When sleep finally came, it was filled with pieces of his earlier conversation with Dorcas and fragments of dreams, which left him with a heavy feeling in his limbs and viscera. Later that day, when he tried to recall the dreams- their meanings, which seemed perfectly obvious in his sleep, eluded him and all he was left with were memories of deep warmth surrounding him, the intoxicating scent of lilies and a bittersweet taste in his mouth. 

He realized the futility of trying to return to bed, which was why by first light he was on his motorcycle and already making his way towards Hogwarts.

8888

"Ah, Sirius." Dumbledore greeted. He waved his arm and the sleeping cap perched haphazardly on his head disappeared. "A bit early but there is always no time like the present." Scones with jelly, tins of cookies and some tea appeared on a table together with a couple of chairs. "Perhaps some breakfast first."

Sirius nodded wordlessly and mostly just fidgeted with the food and sipped his tea while Dumbledore tucked in.

"As much as I wish this is a social visit, Sirius, given our times I suppose this is on Order business," Dumbledore began once breakfast was consumed.

Sirius handed over the parchment with Lucius instructions and the parcel containing the Keepsake Glasses that Dorcas gave him. "There's a new target. It's the Rileys this time."

Dumbledore read the instructions Lucius gave Dorcas then opened the parcel. Inside, four Keepsake Glasses were nestled by a cushioning spell, bound together with a note which he read.

The intent expression on Dumbledore's face piqued Sirius' curiosity. Dorcas' strange reaction when she gave him the Keepsake Glasses troubled him because in the past, even during the time when they didn't trust each other, everything that she had found out from the Death Eaters she had shared with him. But this was something that she didn't even explain to him. And then she apologized.

"You have already given Dorcas the plans?" Dumbledore asked interrupting Sirius thoughts.

"Yes Albus."

Dumbledore peered inscrutably at Sirius over his half moon glasses then he sighed. "I am going to ask you to tell Moody about the attack. We will have the Aurors handle this tonight. There should not be an Order member, even those who are Aurors, out there when they attack the Rileys. Voldermort should not, in any way connect the thwarting of his plans with the Order. We need to do this to avert any suspicions away from Dorcas.

"You see Sirius, the plans for tonight's attacks do not include Regulus and Dorcas expressed some apprehension towards that in her note to me."

"I am not entirely certain what Dorcas has shared with you regarding her and Regulus but in the past, they have mostly been assigned to the same missions. Although that has not always been the case, but majority of the missions they have done together since they were invited to join the Death Eaters within a few months of each other."

"But not with the Riley attack."

"No, Sirius." Dumbledore agreed. "She believes that because of Regulus', of your family connections with Lucius, they've assigned Regulus to a major attack, one that will devastate both the muggle and our world. Unfortunately, she is still in the dark about what they are planning."

"But they have not included her?" Sirius asked. "She does come from an old family."

Some of the paintings of the old headmasters were beginning to stir behind their frames, the cacophony of snores becoming softer as they strained to listen to the conversation.

"The Meadowes is a pureblood family that can trace their ancestry to the early days of our country, but your lineage stretches further and is older than hers. And while your family has been making alliances, the members of hers have been known to be rebels, even back then. They may have accepted her because of an ancient bloodline, but she is constantly trying to prove herself to the Death Eaters."

"And you want us to be careful because any wrong move will make them suspicious." Sirius replied astutely.

The sigh Dumbledore gave was long and the twinkle that was so often in his eyes were dimmed. Sirius was inadvertently reminded of the Headmaster's age. "Yes, particularly now. She will try to gain confidence into the people she suspects are included in that group. This will place her under closer scrutiny. You have to be cautious when you talk to her."

Sirius nodded. The thought of their early morning meeting haunted him, reminding him that they could not risk meeting like that any more. The hug he gave her had been an impulse, something he still did not understand and had not intended to act upon. Yet now, knowing that they would probably not see each other any time soon, he felt something he could not recognize, something akin to relief that he had acted on the impulse.

"There are other measures that will have to be set in place," Dumbledore continued. "Your brother will also have to be observed."

"I can try to talk to him more often," Sirius began. "We can be-"

"It is quite all right Sirius, with everything that I am asking you to do. I have somebody else in mind to look into your brother's business." Turning around towards a silver gilded frame lined with green curtains, Dumbledore called out loudly- "Nigellus."

The occupant of the painting remained in slumber. Sirius snorted. He remembered his great, great grandfather- the Old Slytherin Headmaster, as he and Regulus used to call the occupant of the portrait- with mixed feelings of annoyance and fondness. Phinneas Nigellus would taunt him whenever he was home, insulting his choice in friends and threatening to tell his parents about the pranks that he had been called into the Headmaster's office for. And Sirius was sure Nigellus actually told his parents about some of the pranks. But Nigellus was insightful to talk to at times, especially when it was the entire Black family versus him and nobody, not even the serving elves, were allowed to speak to him. He was also a formidable opponent in wizarding chess.

"Nigellus." Dumbledore called out again.

"Were you calling me, Dumbledore?" Phinneas Nigellus asked, making a big show of yawning loudly.

"Thank you for taking the time to awaken, Nigellus," Dumbledore said wryly. "There is something that I need for you to do. I need you to observe Regulus Black."

"And report to you, is that it?" Nigellus tossed silkily. "Don't you have a spy to do that for you?"

"I understand that my request is an imposition, particularly observing a family member. However, you are better placed to observe Regulus from your position."

"I will not be brought down to the level of your Unspeakable, Dumbledore! She is as much a blood traitor as her parents! An abomination! To use the blood of her ancestors and become an impostor!" Nigellus shouted. Gone was the smooth, baiting tone.

"I will not tolerate such talk in my office, Nigellus." Dumbledore replied firmly.

"You place too much faith on your spy, Dumbledore, but are you certain of her loyalties? The last I heard she was engaged to my great, great grandson. The idiot was soft enough to propose."

Sirius tried to hide his surprise at what he heard, but he shouldn't have bothered because all of the portraits and even Dumbledore himself was far too distracted with the ongoing argument to notice.

"Certainly" Dumbledore drawled, "if her loyalties to me were suspect, then you wouldn't be too troubled about her being against those who believe that only Purebloods deserve to live. And there is a reason why rumors are rumors. Now, do I have your cooperation, Nigellus?"

"You are correct in saying that you impose too much Dumbledore." The Slytherin headmaster then promptly fell asleep despite the growing commotion around him.

"Insubordination!" Dilys Derwent shouted. "You cannot refuse the present headmaster."

"We are obligated to serve the current holder of the office." Another former headmaster shouted.

"I don't understand this refusal, Nigellus. Are you protesting the thought of spying on your family? After all, you have been doing so ever since you were made into that painting. Or have you forgotten all those girls that your grandson used to make out with that you were so _imposed_ upon to observe?

"Artemesia." Dumbledore said warningly.

"I am _protesting_ the highly unintelligent and offensive rule that states we are obliged to assist the current Headmaster in his time of inadequacy." Nigellus huffed despite the background of shouts from outraged portraits. "The extracurricular activities of my family members are not Hogwarts' business."

"Well, gee, protest all you want, Headmaster. See if you can change things now that you're _dead_." And with that, Artemesia Potter gave him a grin and fell asleep.

"I should have expelled that insolent girl when she was a student here." Nigellus muttered under his breath.

"But it wouldn't have boded well to have removed the best witch of her class. Besides, Slytherin wouldn't have won the house cup without her," Dumbledore mused. "Perhaps you shouldn't have hired her to teach here, but those are things in the past which we cannot change without dire consequences. However Nigellus, I understand how difficult it is to divulge the private lives of your family, but at this point it is necessary and I would be grateful for the cooperation."

Nigellus gave a resigned sigh and when he replied, he finally regained his smooth voice. "I hope you remember that one day Dumbledore, you shall also be hanging up on this wall."

"He's always been like that," Sirius said sheepishly after Nigellus walked from the edge of the frame probably to appear in his other portrait in 12 Grimmauld Place.

"There's no need to apologize for your ancestor, Sirius. He can be ornery at times but he has always acceded to my wishes. Now, if you can hand give this to Moody."

Sirius pocketed the note and said his good byes. He made his way to Hogsmede and collected his motorcycle from the alley behind The Hogs Head.

_Engaged? She and Regulus._

_Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't Regulus tell me?_

His mind bombarded him with the thought as he flew to Aurors Headquarters.

* * *

**AN:  
First order of business:** In my last ANs, when I thanked the reviewers and readers, I think I misspelled one of them writing Angel instead of Angel I guess this is the fanfic version of erratum. Sorry about that and thank you for reviewing. 

As for those who read and reviewed (je suis une pizza, Janessea., Kendra- the hyper one) the last chapter, thanks! You guys give me the much needed steam to go on. Although don't get me wrong, it's great fun to write this.

**Second order of business:** I think I have to explain why I have Remus acting suspicious. I don't think Sirius and James were just being idiots, believing that Remus was the spy. If their friendship was as deep as JKR says it is, then it had to have worked both ways- the two not being trustful enough and Remus acting suspicious. And Peter can't be as bumbling as some depict him to be if the three, all pretty smart guys, didn't suspect him. As for what Remus was doing? I actually mentioned it already in passing in one of the Reminiscence chapters.

**And now a hint on chapter twenty-three:** wherein news of "the engagement" flies around faster than brooms in a Quidditch game and our heroine learns a lesson in vigilance.


	26. Chapter 23

**Complete Summary:** During the first war, an order member is called to live a double life & she realizes just how much she has to sacrifice to be able to fight the good fight. On one hand, she has to denounce everything she believes in. On the other, she tries to cope with the hostility & mistrust of her contact, Sirius Black, her only connection to the light.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Twenty-three**

Dorcas caught herself rubbing her forearm once again, an unconscious act on her part and one that Moody commented on viciously when she passed by Auror Headquarters that afternoon to coordinate the Riley Attack. The Dark Mark had been tingling the entire day, slowly building up to a constant sting for the last hour. Soon, she knew, the stinging would change into a bone deep pain as the time drew near.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing to control the pain, but the moment her eyelids shut and the darkness enveloped her, the sensation of being embraced haunted her. The recollection of the warmth the embrace evoked was comforting, but the thought of the how his breath stirred her hair and how low the timbre of his voice was started a slow heat deep inside.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, cutting the vision in her head.

She wasn't naive, and she knew from experience that refusing to acknowledge things could make them weaker.

_It was nothing. Nothing._

She shouldn't be distracted.

8888

The Whispering Lodge was an old Scottish castle that appeared like a big pile of rubble to muggle history buffs- complete with a hefty stone plaque designating the date it had burned down. The Rileys, despite their wealth, bought it for a song because the previous owners were a very old Wizarding family with too little brains due to too much inbreeding.

Getting rich by having a muggle business didn't stop Voldemort from ordering the Death Eaters to milk the family for funds, a decision that wasn't popular with the entire group. But galleons were still galleons it seemed, regardless of how they were made.

Crouched behind a tall oak, Dorcas waited for the signal from across the field where a scouting party had gone ahead. Another Death Eater, not Regulus, was beside her; someone she did not know. His only distinguishing characteristic was his smell, which was rank and assaulted her nose despite the small nose slits of their mask.

However, it was his silence that disturbed her more. It was almost inhuman. He had not spoken, not even during the briefing and she found herself missing Regulus' nervous breathing.

A brief flash of green went off at the opposite end of the vast expanse of field. Her companion gave her a nod before running through the shadows to reach the side of the house. She kept her wand out and covered her partner's progress. Once he was well away from her, she checked a pocket watch. In thirty minutes, the Aurors would be barging in.

By the time she reached the sidewall, her companion was already tapping the bricks in a pattern that only he knew. The bricks started to glow and shifted to reveal a gap wide enough for them to pass through.

Wordlessly, he motioned her inside.

The gap opened into the kitchen. From there, they made their way onto the second floor, throwing doors open in their search for the study, which they found on their fourth try.

Shelves lined the walls of the study and in the middle of the room was a mahogany desk filled with parchment and quills in disarray. She spied the very old and very muggle grandfather clock by the door.

Twelve minutes before the Aurors come.

Her companion headed for the desk and methodically piled the paper. She pulled out drawers and perused the contents, adding all of the parchment that she could find onto the pile on the table.

"That's the last." Dorcas closed the bottom drawer.

"Check the books."

Dorcas started pulling books from the shelves, leafing through the pages and tossing them on the floor when she was done.

She glanced at the clock- seven minutes.

The other Death Eater finished his perusal of the contents of the desk, shrunk the stack of parchment he collected and pocketed them. "Get all the parchment."

Dorcas did the same and pocketed the other half.

"Good," her companion said in his harsh voice. "The Dark Lord wants-"

"AURORS!"

The shout reverberated from the first floor of the mansion. Already, they could hear shouts and the ricochet of spells being cast.

Without speaking, they left the study and made for the stairs but the thunder of footsteps stopped them in their tracks. They changed direction and headed for the farthest of the rooms.

"Stupid Apparition barrier." Dorcas muttered as she locked the door behind her. A quick glance revealed that they were in one of the children's rooms. Richly furnished, a four poster bed looking ridiculous with a Hollyhead Harpies bedspread, had a place of honor on a dais. Very expensive brooms hung on the wall and a snitch buzzed and zipped by. Glass covered and framed Quidditch posters adorned the walls and the photographic selves of players stopped zooming long enough to shake their fists emphatically at them.

Her companion was attempting to charm the lock of the window open.

"Help me get this open, unless you prefer getting caught." Her companion's harsh voice almost overpowered his words as the sounds outside the room got louder.

Outside the door, they could hear the footsteps getting louder, the spells more furious.

Dorcas pointed her wand on the lock. "A blasting spell on the count of three. One. Two. Three."

The lock disintegrated and the window flew open.

"Accio broom." They shouted in unison as the door swung open with a bang.

"Expelliarmus!"

Dorcas ducked the spell on instinct but it was directed towards her companion. "Reducto!" Her companion shouted, already on his broom.

She was already out of the window and halfway across the property when she felt the spell rush over her head, missing her by inches. There was a flash of green in her peripheral vision and she turned around in time to see a body fall. There was no frightened scream as the body gained speed in its descent. Robes spread out gracefully around the body like a bird unfolding its wings, but there was no flight, only the sickening crunch and the dull thud of impact.

The robe the wizard was wearing wasn't black. It was royal blue, deep and dramatic against the green grass turning black with the seeping blood.

* * *

_This is a brilliant idea._

Sirius repeated the line to himself for the hundredth time that evening, but as- well he forgot her name- pressed her well-endowed chest closer to his side on the business of topping off his glass, he was finally starting to believe himself.

_Why didn't she tell him? Why didn't Regulus tell him?_

_And why the bloody hell did he feel the need to embrace her last night?_

Sirius knocked back his drink and half of the refill, and suddenly found himself not caring about the unanswerable questions. It was effective, as long as he kept a drink handy every twenty minutes or so.

After meeting with Dumbledore this morning, he went to Auror HQ to talk to Moody about the Riley mission; it ended up being one part nightmare and one part reminder of his Auror training days.

_Intimidation is an integral part of interrogation. So are deception and Veritaserum. Everything short of physical harm and psychological questioning that may cause undue duress is allowed,_ or so said The Art and Magic of Truth Telling- An Auror's Guide.

Moody must have taken the required text to heart because he stuck Sirius in a darkened interrogation room and drilled him with enough questions, that once it was done, Sirius had an irrepressible urge to hit the bottles.

Then an idea hit Sirius and later grown out of proportion that here he was, with twenty or so bags of crisps and much more bottles of alcohol- both muggle and wizarding because Merlin forbid he'd be elitist and thus uncool- holding an impromptu party in his flat.

Sirius surveyed his living room. Most of the people were from Hogwarts but there were a few whom he didn't recognize at all, invited by someone or the other by word of mouth.

Peter, Sirius saw, had taken to standing by the wireless and was playing DJ, making sure that in between the hits of the Warbling Wonders and the Weird Sisters, there was muggle music playing. A girl had taken residence next to Peter, discussing the merits of the music and while Peter looked out of his depth, he seemed to be enjoying just staring at the cute blonde.

Satisfied that Peter was enjoying himself, Sirius looked for Remus but didn't see him anywhere. _Probably hiding in his bedroom._

All the party lacked was James, who decided to sit this one out and instead waited for Lily to come home from work. Sirius thought about Flooing James, but the redhead that was pressing herself against him had brushed against him seductively in the middle of what she was saying, confirming in his mind that James was better off sitting this out and waiting for Lily.

"...so I told my friend that I looked better with red hair," the buxom girl finished with a flourish. "Don't you agree."

Sirius bit back the impolite comment about her body, paper bags and her face and gave her a charming grin instead, hoping it would serve as a good enough excuse. "I'm going to call my friend James."

"Darling James! I was wondering where he was." As the redhead fluffed her newly colored hair, light suddenly dawned on Sirius.

"What's he doing now?" She asked.

"Bumming around." Sirius commented nonchalantly.

"I always thought he'd go pro. He was amazing! I bet he has a really good physique to be able to fly that well," she gushed. Then laying a hand on his arm, "not that I don't think you have a hot bod as well."

"I'm sure." Sirius resisted a laugh. "Actually, James's a scrawny bloke. If you'll excuse me."

Foregoing the fireplace in his living room for the one he magically installed in his kitchen, he made his way there, where he found a Gryffindor three years below him and two Ravenclaws in his year sharing a joint and going through the alcoholic drinks that haven't been brought out. He shooed them towards the living room, plying the bottles into their arms as bribes and after sharing a few lewd jokes, shut the door behind them.

The fireplace sat at the end of the room, near the head of a roughly hewn wooden table. He didn't notice it until Remus pointed out the similarity between his kitchen and the one in Grimmauld Place, albeit in miniature. He started a fire magically, threw in some Floo Powder and called for James and Lily's flat in the wizarding part of London.

James' face appeared amongst the logs, pushing up his glasses. "Sirius."

"You said you'll follow."

James snorted. "Whining doesn't become you."

"With my mug, I can whine all I want. Well come on, get your arse out here."

"I'll pass Padfoot. I haven't seen Lily in a while, with her crazy schedule and with the jobs Dumbledore asks."

"How can you not see her? You live with her."

"Moody's assigned her to night watch. She's asleep even before I leave in the morning and gone by the time I get home at night. You did Auror training. You know what it's like. Anyway, this is the first night that she gets to spend at home. You know..." James paused.

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind," James said. Then: "Mate, I think your pocket's whispering."

The communicating speculum was out of Sirius' pocket with the speed of a snitch and reflected in it was Dorcas looking furtively over her shoulders rather than at him. The slight tightening of Sirius' grip around the mirror didn't go unnoticed to James.

Sirius turned to James. "Will you wait a bit?"

"Yeah."

Instead of leaving the kitchen, Sirius locked the door that led to the living room and took a seat by the table.

"Sirius? Is it safe to talk?"

Shadows covered most of Dorcas' face. He could barely make out her eyes, but her voice sounded strained and breathless.

Sirius double checked the locks but there was nothing he could do about the volume of the music.

"Go on."

"An Auror's down-"

"Lily?" Sirius interrupted

"No."

He breathed easier then motioned for her to continue.

"Male, I think. I'm not sure who. AKed by my partner in the mission. I don't know who my partner is."

He heard the guilt in her voice over the death and part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, the way he had that time in the safehouse or the night before in the shop. Yet a barely formed thought, merely images of her and Regulus, and this unknown feeling beginning in his chest stopped the words he wanted to say.

What came out instead was curt and direct to the point.

"That's all you want me report to Dumbledore?"

"You can but there's no need. The Aurors will report to Moody and he'll talk to Dumbledore. Tell the Headmaster that they separated us into three teams of two. My team and another one went after documents while the third team was supposed to kill the Rileys." She had calmed down but there was a strange tone to her voice, a sort of question that echoed in her report.

"What were you after?" He asked, all business.

"They never told us. Just asked us to collect all the parchment that we could find. I still have some of the documents. I need to give you copies to hand to Dumbledore. Maybe it would give us an idea of what Voldemort is after. Do you want to meet up in your shop in Knockturn Alley?" She sounded hopeful.

"No." Sirius said flatly. "Starting now, Dumbledore wants your contact with all Order members minimized, including me."

"It might be all right if we exchange in the middle of the night."

They had done it before and doing it again appealed to the adventurous side of him. But agreeing would mean that he would spend time with her alone, time that he shouldn't be spending with his brother's fiancée.

_Unless their meeting wasn't inappropriate, that she thought of it as part of her job as a spy. She probably thought of him as a friend, a mate. Or maybe much less- a contact, someone to work with. And if that was so, then they wouldn't be betraying Regulus trust if they met up. _

Still, Dumbledore said to restrict contact.

"It's an idiotic plan! We shouldn't even have done it the last time. Too bloody risky. Just come in during shop hours and leave it in some puffskein like the last time."

"I can't always leave your place without buying anything." Her voice had dropped and on her face was an expression he had never seen before. "Not exactly the type of store to go window shopping in. Once was okay. Twice is suspicious."

"Then buy something." He said shortly. "We'll exchange at the counter when you're making payment." Then he cut off communication abruptly and ran a hand over his face. It just occurred to him what her last expression was. Confusion. And disappointment.

He desperately needed a few drinks. Maybe a cigarette.

Sirius jumped in surprise when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw James had Flooed in and had the gist of the conversation with Dorcas.

"I'll get you something strong and Russian, yeah?" At Sirius' sigh, James added, "maybe two of those."

Sirius heard the soft click of the door as James went into his living room to get some drinks for them. He pulled kitchen drawers out randomly, searching for the pack of cigarettes he could have sworn he stowed in there somewhere.

A few moments later, a glass plopped in front of him and James waited quietly, sipping his own drink, while Sirius rooted around the drawers.

"Ha." Sirius waved the pack in success and proceeded to light one with a relish.

"I couldn't find Remus in there," James began, after Sirius finished a stick and calmed down a bit.

"Probably upstairs, hiding. I think he was surprised by the Mark and Archie show in the corner."

James raised an eyebrow. "Well a girl asked for him."

"Brunette, short hair, legs that go on for miles?" Sirius continued after James' nod. "She was winking at Remus earlier and I reckoned it doesn't matter how smart the chap is, he couldn't get a bloody hint even if it was handed directly to him properly labeled in green ink in big letters- B-L-O-O-D-Y H-I-N-T."

"He gets it," James said, amused. "He just doesn't want it."

"Oh he wants it. If he says otherwise, it's just Prefect Remus speaking."

"Well, a few girls out there were asking about you." James broached the subject. "Not having fun?"

"On the contrary. I thought this is one of my finer ideas to date." Sirius had a meaningful look on his face. "And mind, if you remember Hogwarts, I've had some fine ideas."

"So that argument with Dorcas-"

"-We weren't arguing." Sirius interrupted and started pacing. "We were discussing the logistics of meeting up. It's all Order business." Seeing James' doubtful expression, Sirius continued earnestly. "I'll admit that in the past I tended to overreact around her, because I thought she'd double-cross us. But now were friends. Mates. That's all."

"Nobody said you were anything but," James pointed out. "Besides, is there anything wrong with being friends with her?"

"No. Nothing at all."

"So how come you're avoiding meeting up with her?"

"I'm not. Dumbledore's orders," said Sirius firmly.

James raised his eyebrows. "Dumbledore's orders?"

Sirius threw back the drink and contemplated the bottom of his glass before answering, "yup, Dumbledore's orders."

"I get that you didn't trust her before, but I thought things were getting better. Civil. Friendly. So what was that?" James asked firmly.

"You just can't bloody let it go, yeah." Sirius stopped pacing long enough to light another cigarette. "Like a dog after a bone."

"You're the mutt here. Arse headed mutt."

James gave him a pointed stare while Sirius concentrated on blowing smoke rings. Finally, he turned to James.

"My brother never told me they were engaged."

"Engaged!" James opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Oh... Erm..."

Sirius lit a new cigarette from the one he last smoked, stubbed out the one he had just finished and took a couple of deep drags. His fingers fumbled a bit.

"She didn't tell me either, for that matter," he muttered. "It doesn't matter. I know Reg and I don't talk, but I reckoned he would at least tell me something this important." He shrugged. "Perhaps I overestimated what the little bugger and I had, being brothers and all." The nonchalant way the last statement was thrown in belied Sirius' hurt.

"Wait for it. He'll probably tell you. Maybe he's just waiting for a good time to tell you without having Malfoy looking over your shoulders."

"Maybe."

James looked sympathetic but there was an assessing look as well; Sirius knew that soon enough James would return to the topic of Dorcas. Sirius didn't like the implications of that look, particularly when he didn't know the answers even to his own questions.

"If it's Regulus who should tell you, why are you taking it out-"

"Isn't Lily waiting for you?" Sirius spoke harshly over the question, effectively ending the conversation. James took the hint.

"Yeah," James said curtly. "Sorry I can't join the party."

James made to leave, but at the edge of the fireplace, he stopped for a minute. Then he faced Sirius and gave him a small smile. "But you have fun. Might be good for you. And find Remus, make sure he enjoys himself."

Sirius accepted the truce by touching tip of his eyebrow with his glass in a small salute. "Yeah. Give my love to Lils."

"Too late for that," James kidded. "Who wants some old mutt when she's got me."

"Ha! You think you're pretty witty."

"Aren't I?" James flung back and stepped into the fireplace and through a series of grates to return to his own home in the other side of London.

There was a knocking on the kitchen door and a feminine voice muffled by the music called out, but when Sirius opened the door, she was no longer there. He contemplated on slamming the door behind him but realized that he didn't have the urge to do so anymore. The toned down argument with James had diffused his anger, and it dawned on him how well his friend actually knew him, probably much more than he knew himself.

The party was well underway. The music was louder and the people more drunk.

The redhead he was talking to earlier headed his way.

"Where'd you go off to?" She plied a new drink into his hand. "I thought I heard James Potter through the kitchen door."

Sirius threw her an amused look. Her tank top was low-cut and if the view wasn't so engrossing, he wouldn't give her the time of day.

"Actually Caroline, I thought I saw James with those blokes over there." A hand pointed towards the window through which a group of guys could be seen outside. Sirius followed the hand, up an arm and saw that it belonged to a petit blond- Zoe Fowler, he was certain- who was a year above him and used to be in Ravenclaw. She played chaser and was Quidditch captain in her last year. More importantly, she was one of those birds people talked about constantly, even after she had left Hogwarts and while she was there, majority of the male population claimed to be in love with her. The remaining minority (and Sirius admitted that he belonged to this group) claimed that they could make her fall in love with them.

"Are you sure? You truly saw James out there?" Caroline, the redhead gushed.

"Oh yes!" Zoe exclaimed. It was a pretty good imitation of Caroline, who didn't seem to notice. "And he didn't look scrawny at all. Quite the opposite, very buff and yum."

Sirius eyed the redhead's departing form then turned to Zoe and grinned. "Hullo."

"Hullo? Is that all you could say?" She raised an eyebrow. "Then I think your reputation has grown out of proportion in the telling."

Sirius gave her an appraising look then deciding, he stepped closer to her, doing nothing at all just invading her personal space. He waited for her breathing to become erratic, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest and the throb of the pulse on her neck. After he was certain he disconcerted her enough, he stepped back just as calmly.

"Zoe Fowler, Quidditch captain. Bloody brilliant save with the Potter fan. Apparently you have many talents aside from amazing Quidditch strategies." His tone was conversational, his expression bland. They could have been talking about the weather.

Zoe gave him a throaty laugh, not at all nervous, then licked her lips. "You have no idea."

Sirius gazed down at her lips then up to her eyes then back again to her lips. Then lower still. "Are you going to give me a clue?"

"I can give you a clue..." She cocked her head meaningfully towards the stairs. "...As long as it's in some place quiet."

On the landing at the top of the stairs, Zoe had Sirius pinned against the wall. She had pushed him hard enough to make the man in the loo step out for a moment in a cloud of illicit smoke to see what the disturbance was about. The man gave them a glassy eyed wink and returned to the bathroom.

Sirius took a deep breath of the narcotic. "The expensive kind, that one."

They laughed for a minute then she had her lips against his again, her left hand in his hair and her right hand inching its way downwards. He responded in kind, brushing his hands against her breasts.

He liked that she was aggressive, that she took the choice out of his own hands and made sure that this was all fun. He had an inkling that if Zoe had been _Her_- the only female that he had thought about often enough to merit a capital pronoun- he would have to meet her as an equal, measure for measure.

He liked that she was blond and petit, and hard to mistake for someone else. Yet when he closed his eyes, images of dark brown hair and hazel eyes flashed behind his lids, so he kept his eyes half open when they kissed.

He especially liked that there was no thinking and no feeling- at least nothing above his waist- involved. This was the old him and it was uncomplicated.

He led her towards his room and rested his hand on the knob.

"The door is unlocked."

Then he leaned against the door and crossed his arms, as if to prove that he can resist her. He waited for her to press her body against his, reach around him and open the door.

* * *

Dorcas stared at the mirror blindly then after a long moment she slid it into her robes. She didn't know what she expected from Sirius. Teasing to make her laugh? Reassurances that things would turn out right in the end? What she didn't expect was the cool reply, like he could barely stand the sight of her. It was as if they were back to their first meeting. Except he, not she, was the cool one now. 

_What was his bloody problem, _she thought and studiously ignored the ache in her chest. After all, if there was anything she learned from being an Unspeakable it's that a person can be trained to withstand a great amount of pain. It was all in the mind, she was taught and Sirius had occupied too much space in there already.

The crunching sound of undergrowth meeting its early demise from being trampled upon was faint against the chorus of chirping crickets, rustling leaves and the occasional hooting owl but it signaled that she should start moving away from the forest that had served as a temporary hiding place, only a hundred or so kilometers from the Whispering Lodge. It could be Aurors or the other Death Eaters. With the former, there would be too much explaining to do- that's if they didn't use an Unforgivable first- and the latter would entail the rest of the night dissecting the mission and what went wrong, which they would do in tomorrow's revel anyway. Either of which she wasn't in the mood for.

She shrunk the broom she had flown on and transfigured it to resemble the leaves of the tree she was sheltering under. As what was once an expensive broom fluttered from her fingers, she mouthed a silent _I'm sorry_ to the owner who would not hear it and never know and Disapparated.

The scent of muggle London was the first thing to assault her, even before the world stopped spinning around her and the colors solidified into actual surroundings. The heavy smell of soil, still wet from yesterday's shower, indicated a small urban garden, which she spotted the moment her eyes regained their focus. The aroma of baking bread drifted from an all night tea shop across the street where its big glass windows revealed men with collars pulled up to hide their faces and women with tiny muggle clothing. Next to it was a bank of closed shops with their shutters pulled over display glasses and massive chains with heavy metal locks embracing their doors. This was a relatively new addition, only this year Dorcas was certain, in response to the recent spate of break-ins the area had experienced. She and Benjy had been sent some time back, before the Death Eater rally in Alley Square, to investigate if they were wizarding related. Much to their surprise (and consternation for being ordered into one of the seediest parts of London) it wasn't.

She studied the street traffic from the alcove that she had Apparated in. They were mostly bone weary contractual workers and women peddling their wares. They were all tired, uncaring and unobservant. Casting a charm to make her robes look like a long coat, even if it was inappropriate in the summer, she stepped out and headed for the closest station.

The nearest station was a mile away and she was only halfway there when she felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of her neck.

_Trust your instincts. _

Tutela's voice echoed in her mind, a remnant of her early days of training.

She quickened her pace, heading for the shadowed portion of a stretch of blank wall part of a closed shoe repair shop. Her back pressed against the wall, she tightened her grip on her wand but kept both her hands hidden in the folds of her robe.

Closer to the station now, the street traffic was slightly different. There were fewer people on the streets, majority of whom were homeless rather than the late night workers. Someone was following her. Her gut was certain and her sight alighted on each of their faces, looking for something suspicious- a small movement that indicated a call sign, an unusual article of clothing, even the outline of a wand. But they all seemed innocuous.

She weighed her options. She could stay here and wait out an attack, finding out once and for all whether her tail was a seeming enemy like the Aurors or a seeming friend like the Death Eaters. The problem with waiting was that if she was wrong then she'd be standing in the middle of muggle London for the rest of the night. Or she could keep moving, hoping to lose the person. But if she was unable to, then she would be leading him directly to her home.

Her pulse had speeded up but remained regular, a deep insistent thrum in her veins. It wasn't fear, she realized, almost like excitement and the adrenaline rush was heightened by the anticipation.

Then she smiled and headed for the stairs leading to the Underground.

She stopped first at the loo and this time changed the charm to make it look like she was wearing muggle jeans and a T-shirt. Then she cast a Confounding charm to disguise her trail.

Reaching the booth, she realized she was too late for they had already closed, but she knew that there would be one more train. Deciding, she broke into a run and vaulted the barriers. There were no alarms raised, no shouting guards. Once she reached the platform, she slowed her speed to a walk and tried to remain nonchalant. Three teens in chains and black clothing were standing by the edge of the platform and talking noisily. The one with the gravity defying spikes and nose ring gave Dorcas a low whistle. Sitting on one of the benches, the woman in a rumpled office dress and an equally rumpled expression gave her a passing glance.

Aside from having to cast a weak Confounding charm on the muggles, the trip remained uneventful, although the feeling that she was still being trailed remained with her. She changed trains every so often and sat next to the doors. The thought that she was being paranoid crossed her mind and she dismissed it as not being so bad. She was trained by Tutela to be paranoid. If Moody could see her, he would approve.

Once returned above ground, she Disapparated again to a different location. She made sure she disguised her trail, stopping after every Apparition to cast a Confounding charm, using muggle transport as often as possible and maintaining a circuitous route.

It was a block away from her home when all the lights on her street went out.

Immediately, her wand was trained on the person she was certain was behind her, only to find that that person had a wand trained on her as well.

In the light of the moon, all she could make out was the glint of the Death Eater mask.

"Miss Meadowes." It was the gravely voice of her partner in the mission. "As much as I enjoyed hunting you up and down London, I think we both know that this is over. I won. You might as well put your wand down and listen."

Dorcas schooled her expression to appear blank but her wand remained steady.

"You would not have lead me to a merry chase through half of London if it you did not fear the Death Eaters," he growled.

"You could have been an Auror," Dorcas countered.

She was halfway through a spell when she found herself unable to move and floating above the ground. All she could see was the Death Eater mask looming close to her face. She could almost taste as well as smell his stench. The man's hand was out of her field of vision and since she could not move, she could only anticipate what he was going to do.

Then she felt his hand slip into her robes. She felt his long nails snag against the cloth as he patted her down until he reached the hidden pocket sown on the inside by her hip. Then he raised the communicating speculum to her line of vision.

It seemed like eternity before he spoke.

"This is a very rare magical item. Very few wizards could afford to own something like this. Who were you calling?"

"It is an heirloom," said Dorcas a bored voice. "I come from a very old Wizarding family. Unlike some."

The implication was unmistakable and the Death Eater took the bait.

Growling, he said, "do not play with me. Who will you talk to with this? Your parents in their graves? If I say Regulus Black would his face appear?"

"Are you questioning my loyalty? We can go to the Dark Lord and have him settle this."

She threw the threat out cavalierly but she hoped he would not call out her bluff.

The man drew closer and inhaled deeply. Then threw his head back and sounded a coarse laugh.

"A while ago you smelled different. The chase excited you. It was almost second nature to you, this secrecy, running, hiding. But now, your scent has changed. You reek of fear. I think I can guess who holds the other mirror. I remember that Meadowes had two little girls. You have a sister. A squib. Tell me, how would the Dark Lord react if he found out there is a squib in the family?"

"You insult me," she spat out. "I have not spoken to my worthless sister ever since I've entered Hogwarts."

The man cupped her chin. His foul breath fanned her face as he spoke. "Is that the truth?"

Dorcas kept her face expressionless and stared him down.

"Remember your loyalties," said the man. "You think you came close to a Cruciatus or an Avada Kedavra. But what I will do to you_ I will enjoy_ much more than an Unforgivable Curse."

He ran his hand down her neck.

"Such soft skin, such fragile bones. So much fun to hunt."

And with that, the man turned around and disappeared into the night, a hunter blending in with the shadows.

It was only when he Disapparated that the spell was broken.

The first thought that rushed through her mind was that she would have to do something about the mirror, which the Death Eater had taken. She needed to inform Sirius not to use it because if he did then the Order would be found out. But aside from using the communicating speculum- which was now out of the question- or going to his shop tomorrow, she didn't know how to get in touch with Sirius. She realized she did not even know where he lived. Her mind didn't appear to be working properly because the answer to her problem eluded her and she was much too weary to go hunting for a Death Eater. And if she did find him, given her state, there wasn't any way that she could physically beat him or mentally out wit him into returning it.

Lying like a broken heap in the middle of the street, Dorcas willed herself to stand up. Her house was only a block away but she couldn't direct her feet to move in that direction. Instead, the urge to stay out in muggle London overwhelmed her. She knew logically that since she has already been threatened that they will not try anything else tonight. But emotionally she needed to move away from her home to keep it safe. It was only place untouched by the war; the place where she was just herself and not playing a role. And running around London would be more for her peace of mind than anything else. Part of her deeply ingrained training reminded her that a moving target was harder to kill.

In the end, rather than wandering around London she stayed outside for half an hour watching the darkened street and jumping at every sound. Her mind was cruel to her, bringing to fore the memories of a much-needed embrace and the feelings of comfort and- _yes, she would admit it in the dark-_ attraction that it evoked. Anything else but this helplessness that overwhelmed her, crawling down her throat to suffocate her. Yet, with how things were between her and him, the memory served more to torture than to comfort.

Added to this, the hysteria that lurked just beneath her tenuous control evident in her hands that wouldn't stop shaking, disturbed her. Her hands never shook before.

How she made her way home eluded her, only the moment she had locked her front door and reset her wards, she refused to think anymore and the draught that Sirius had once given her was a welcome succor.

* * *

AN:  
Thanks for the reviews! Virtual chocolates for all- I know it isn't productive but it's the thought that counts (I hope). :) I try to reply to reviews with reply links but if there isn't one, to comply with ffnet's policies, I can only write a general thank you. I hope the virtual chocolates make up for it. 

I have to say sorry if there are any Londoners reading this as I may have butchered the Underground. I wanted to give a specific station and write a better description of the street above it, but was unable to do so because of lack of research on my part. My fault entirely. Considering how much time and effort a lot of the fanfic writers put into their works, I feel remiss and see the need to apologize for it. I have a longer message on my profile page, if anybody feels the need to read it, but this is generally the gist of it.

Anyway, thanks again! I hope you enjoyed this.


	27. Chapter Twentyfour

Disclaimer: This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season  
Moody to Harry in OotP: "... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..."**

**Chapter Twenty-four**

The moment the draught wore off and she opened her eyes, she was alert. There were no dregs of sleep, no sweet pull of dreams to keep her in bed, only the instant awareness of a headache and that she was in trouble.

The mirror was the first thing on her mind and she contemplated her options through the dull throbbing pain that refused to desist. Sirius said minimize contact, which meant he wouldn't use the mirror to talk to her anytime soon- or so she fervently hoped. Since either Sirius saying her name or Dorcas calling out his activates the mirror, as long as Sirius does not attempt to communicate with her, they were safe. But it was only a matter of time, she estimated a week or two, before the Death Eaters would break the enchantment on the mirror and would finally figure out whom she was. She needed to tell Sirius as early as possible.

Finally deciding on what to do, Dorcas went to her desk and quickly penned a note to the Apparition Test Center. Hopefully Tutela wouldn't be too annoyed about finding her a new cover if she, a new hire, gets fired for owling in sick.

"Byron, you're going to have to bring a note in for me," Dorcas said as she dropped a few owl treats into his cage. Her owl gave her a lonely hoot. She hasn't let him out for some time, since she was no longer allowed to owl all of the people she used to know.

She had opened Byron's cage when she remembered too late that he liked to express his displeasure and had already nipped her finger before she could tell him off.

"Not you too. Everybody seems to be angry with me and I don't know why!" Dorcas sighed exasperatedly as she tied the note around his leg. She gave the owl more treats and a soft pat on the head as a peace offering, then she opened her window. "Well, go on you. Be safe. You're one of the few reminders from Darcy that I have left."

Then she proceeded to create copies of her memory of yesterday's attack and the duplicates of the parchments that they lifted.

8888

The magical ceiling that in the past displayed a multitude of backgrounds showed only its cracked stone slabs, making the door less and windowless office almost intolerable. "Meadowes." Tutela greeted in a slightly distracted manner.

Dorcas handed over a keepsake glass together with the official report that she had scribbled hastily that morning. Having to word the events of yesterday in bland official speech helped her control her emotions. She described the mission in detail together with how she escaped and how she was followed. However she glossed over how she was threatened and she certainly did not mention the mirror. Tutela might pull her out immediately if she went into detail.

There was something big that's going to happen and if she's pulled out now, Dorcas didn't know if the Order or even if Incolumitas would be able to plant a new spy.

"Have you given them any reason to suppose that you are not loyal?"

The late night meeting with Sirius in Knockturn Alley came to mind. It could have been a slip, if she was followed. Then she discounted it, knowing that if they had that much hard evidence they would have killed her instead of threatening her.

Dorcas shook her head.

"So it is possible that this is merely a random threat?"

"I suppose so, ma'am."

"I'll have another Unspeakable look into this." Tutela went directly to business. "You talked about the parchments you collected in the Riley home."

"They were random documents- bills, business transactions, old recipes, love letters." Dorcas shrugged. "They asked us to get everything probably so that they wouldn't have to tell us what they wanted specifically. Whatever it is that Voldemort's planed, he meant to keep to himself and share it with only those directly involved. Anyway, I've already given the copies to Jillian before coming here. She might see a pattern or connect it with other information."

"Very well." The Head of the Incolumitas Division then waved her wand over the report, which promptly vanished. Dorcas took that as her cue to leave when Tutela signaled for her to wait. With another flick of her wand, a new parchment appeared on the table. After it unfurled by itself, Tutela tapped it twice. Eight globs of ink appeared and started to form letters. With another tap of the wand and a muttered command the letters then rearranged themselves into eight words, eight towns in Bulgaria.

"There have been reports that Bulgaria is being used as a training ground for some of the foreign recruits. These eight are the most likely. Fenwick will work with you on this one. Generally intelligence gathering."

Tutela peered at Dorcas over her glasses, as if assessing her Unspeakable's skills. "I chose you because of your Death Eater knowledge and you might be able to see inconspicuous things that would generally be interpreted as ordinary."

The first thing on Dorcas' mind was the mirror. If she was sent away immediately there was no telling what would happen if the enchantment on the mirror was broken while she was away.

"Will I be able to plant a cover story with the Death Eaters or even with the Apparition Test Center?" She asked, wondering if she can haggle for time.

"You are not leaving immediately. I am awaiting intelligence as to the right time to send you. I do want you to start training again with Fenwick. The magical community there is considerably more liberal with spell usage. Some of the spells taught at Durmstrang would not be seen fit for instruction in Defense classes at Hogwarts. You would be familiar with most of these spells- slashing spells, blood charms- the defense against which would have been covered by your Incolumitas training. But in these times, it is best to be prepared. 'Constant Vigilance,' to borrow the catch phrase of head Auror from our sister service. Besides," Tutella's mouth moved slightly in what could only be considered a smile in the broadest definition of the term, "it might be good for the two of you to brush up on your warming charms. It might be nearer to winter when you get there.

"See Fenwick sometime this week." This was Tutela's last instruction before Dorcas was dismissed.

8888

Somewhere in Wales, there was a bridge poised over a river at the edge of the town. Standing by the railing, looking over the edge was a girl. Her coat was wrapped tightly around her; her knuckles were white as she tugged at the edges, trying to get as much coverage and warmth as possible. It was nearly the end of summer; while other places in England boasted of the last few slightly warm days, here the wind was chilly, promising a cold autumn and an even colder winter.

. As a last resort, she had called Sirius with the summoning spell used by the Order. One of the reasons why they began using the mirror was to avoid using the spell, which could be traced if anybody was looking close enough to monitor spell usage. But desperate times called for desperate measures, it would seem, and for Dorcas this was plan B.

She spotted Sirius coming from one end and heading in her direction. Once he reached where she was standing, she nodded briefly in greeting and started walking. He fell into step beside her and followed her lead, keeping silent.

She stared straight ahead but her concentration was focused on the vision out of the corner of her eye. In profile, Sirius' face looked impassive and the sunglasses he was wearing did not help in deciphering his expression.

They walked side by side, not acknowledging the other, just slogging forward until they reached the riverbank under the bridge where they began. Above them, muggles loitered around, their busy voices floating downwards. Underneath that world they were unseen, isolated and thus forgotten.

She finally faced him.

A day's growth of stubble lined his jaw. His shirt was rumpled, slept in and looked similar to the one she saw him wearing through the mirror yesterday. And in those close quarters, she smelled perfume and something else, and she was old enough and had experienced enough to recognize what it was.

It hurt. Somewhere inside her, something constricted.

He leaned back against the foot of the bridge and crossed his arms across his chest but he made no move to remove his sunglasses. An eyebrow arched from the top of the rim.

"Well?" He sounded bored.

Keeping her voice neutral, she said, "Here. Records of my memory of the attack and copies of the parchments I lifted. There's a meeting later and I'll try to get the documents the other Death Eater collected."

Sirius reached for the package. "I'm pretty sure I told you to just leave it at the shop."

"Maybe I would have if it wasn't closed long past the time that it should have been open," she muttered sarcastically.

He shrugged. "My bed was quite pleasurable this morning and it was sheer torture to get out of it."

She gritted her teeth. "My apologies."

She was irked, but whether it was at him for being an awful contact by not being accessible or at his rudeness or at herself for reading too much into what lay between them, she did not know.

"Was there anything else?"

She took a steadying breath and braced herself for his reaction to her confession.

"I lost the mirror."

Despite the dark glasses it was evident that he was taken aback. "How?"

"Just..." Yesterday's argument came back to her superimposed on how he appeared now, slouched against the wall, uncaring and bored. And what scared her more was that, despite everything, she still wanted to tell him what happened to her, how frightened and alone she felt, so she willed herself not to. "It was taken from me by a Death Eater."

"And you call me irresponsible. No-" he raised his hand to stop her comment- "you didn't say it but you were implying it. Then you go and lose the mirror. And I'm guessing a couple of weeks, maybe less. They're clever. Then they'll figure out who's holding the other end."

He wasn't so impassive anymore. He was clenching his teeth; she could see the muscle working at his jaw.

"Well you're clever too," she snapped then forged on without thinking, "pretty good at stating the obvious."

"It's a priceless heirloom."

She was almost killed for that thing. Then she got so paranoid afterwards that she spent half an hour outside, a block away from her home, willing herself to move.

_And heirloom or not, it was just a bloody object!_

"It was my Uncle Alphard's," he muttered, as if an afterthought. "So how in Merlin's name do you plan to get it back?"

She didn't know. Inspiration had fallen short and she was just barely keeping it together in front of Sirius, but there was no way that she would breakdown in front of him. Not now. Not anymore.

He clucked his tongue. "You don't know how."

"Look, if I disturbed your little romp between the sheets, if that's why you're acting like a bloody tosser, then please, go! The only thing I was going to ask for was that you don't use the mirror to contact me. Considering how you're acting right now that's probably more a favour to you anyway. Don't bloody worry, I'm going to get your precious heirloom back." She lifted her head and saw herself reflected on his dark glasses, but the image hardly looked like her. She never believed herself capable of showing so much, yet there she was, her pain reflected twice and even with the small pieces of glass it was very plain and very clear. And she hated herself for it. "I'm sorry," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "I've been so stupid."

She had one last look at him, with his still unshaven face, yesterday's clothes and somebody else's perfume and she cursed herself. She had been proud of surviving Hogwarts without being so trite as to moon after a school heartthrob only to find out that she was no different from all of the other foolish girls.

She Apparated into some remote Underground station, bought herself a ticket and made her way back to the nearest stop to the Ministry. She was grateful for the long ride. It afforded her time. Just as she willed herself through surviving Slytherin and her parents' death, she blinked her eyes rapidly and willed her tears not to fall.

8888

The masks came off in the meeting in Malfoy Manor and Dorcas saw just who were the Death Eaters during the Eldrige raid: Lucius Malfoy, Joseph Goldstein and Anton Dolohov. But it was her partner that she was most curious about and who turned out to be Fenrir Greyback.

She heard about him, heard about the vicious werewolf bites he inflicted and the terror he spread up north, but she had never seen him, not even in pictures for there were none, not in the files of the Werewolf Capture Unit, the Aurors nor the Incolumitas division.

Up close he was vile and unkempt with his graying scraggly hair and claw-like nails. His stench, like a rotting carcass mixed with the slight metallic smell of blood, filled the room and she watched, repulsed by the possible implications, as he picked at his teeth. Goldstein visibly shrank away and moved to the other side of Dolohov, but he did not make any overt spells to block the smell, probably in fear of Greyback's retribution.

Dolohov and Malfoy, both from very old and prominent wizarding families, did not even bother to cover their distaste for the half-human. After all, the Dark Lord may appear to be outwardly accepting of the werewolves' plight but he was merely using them to hunt down half-bloods and to frighten resisters. Or so Dorcas heard among the select few of the followers of Voldemort, the purebloods that had come from the oldest of families.

Lucius stepped forward. "Do you have the papers?"

Dorcas drew out the documents, copies of which have been given to Division and the Order. Greyback, Goldstein and Dolohov handed over theirs; Lucius waved his wand and the papers vanished.

"The Dark Lord will reward all of you accordingly but particularly you, Fenrir, for killing the Auror," said Lucius. "Now, onto more important matters-"

Greyback looked pleased and with chest puffed out began, "aren't we going to talk about the mission?"

Lucius threw him a look meant to put him in his place.

"I have already discussed what had happened with the Dark Lord."

A look passed between Goldstein and Dolohov and the latter turned away first. Finally Goldstein spoke up:

"The Aurors arrived very quickly during yesterday's mission. Then there were the incidences regarding the Jones' and Galdofino Pertwee when Dumbledore's men were waiting for us. Lucius, we cannot ignore this. These things cannot be coincidences."

Dorcas felt a chill crawl up her spine. Greyback's gaze burned a hole on the side of her face.

"You very well know that the Dark Lord has left me in charge of operations, which makes me ask, what are you suggesting, Goldstein?" Lucius' silky voice hung in the silence of the Manor's dining room.

Dolohov fidgeted uncomfortably and diligently avoided Goldstein's stare.

Goldstein's annoyance was becoming evident. "Dolohov and I-"

"What Goldstein is staying," Dolohov interrupted in a placating tone, "is that we should take these things into account and be cautious."

Greyback smiled gleefully. "If there's a traitor in our midst-"

"Traitor is such a harsh word," Goldstein said, backtracking, now that he has seen Lucius' reaction to the situation. "As Dolohov said, a bit of caution is only prudent."

Lucius tapped his cane against his palm, the silver snake reflecting menacingly the low green light of the manor.

"Only fools would think that the Dark Lord could be outsmarted. As our number grows, it is only wise to have potholes in place for those that Dumbledore will send after us."

_Potholes?_

Dorcas held her tongue against the temptation to ask.

"And what if we know something about another Death Eater?" Greyback continued where Goldstein and Dolohov had wisely broken off.

"Accusing another Death Eater is something that cannot be taken lightly," Lucius warned.

"How about a squib in the family and evidence that a Death Eater is in contact with this undesirable," said Greyback eagerly like a child showing his parents his perfect marks for an exam. The desire to belong burned brightly in his eyes, making them glow from beneath his hood.

Dolohov properly interpreted Lucius' deceptively bland expression and scoffed at Greyback. "Undesirable. I am certain you can write treatises and such on that."

Greyback growled low in his throat and muttered a few sentences that Dorcas could not decipher then swept out of the manor without taking his leave from Malfoy. Once they heard the front door close, wand arms visibly relaxed and jaws unclenched.

"Scum," Dolohov hissed.

"He is a necessity."

"But what if he's telling the truth?" Goldstein pressed.

"As I said a while ago, the Dark Lord has measures in place to catch those loyal to Dumbledore. Measures that are much more effective than whatever information our werewolf comrade has to share." Lucius said; his expression of bored elegance was back. "Now to business. There is a little matter of the muggles from Thames House meddling into our affairs. Perhaps if we disturb them, they would think twice about asking too many questions."

"There are a few people in the muggle Ministry that I can have a nice, comfortable c_hat _with," offered Goldstein.

"Yes, you may have your fun but remember the Dark Lord has some plans for them. What we need is information which I'm sure you can get from these few people you are talking about."

"Certainly," Goldstein replied.

"Meadowes, the Dark Lord expresses his appreciation for plans of Platform Nine and Three Quarters but there is more that we need from the Department. One of our sources tells us that some of the muggle offices have their fireplaces secretly connected to the Floo Network for easy access for the Aurors. I do not need to explain how valuable these plans would be in bringing down the Muggle Ministry."

"It will be my pleasure to serve the Dark Lord," murmured Dorcas.

"As for you, Dolohov, you will be contacted when the Dark Lord sees fit."

Without a further word, Lucius signaled for his house elf to see them out.

Goldstein and Dolohov Disapparated the moment the manor gates swung open and the barriers against such magic ended. Dorcas had just pulled her coat tightly and was about to do the same when she sensed it- the deadly silence before an attack.

Her wand was out and just as she was about to chastise herself for her excessive paranoia, Greyback stepped out from the shadows.

"Pureblood idiots," he growled, "I am more loyal to the Dark Lord than you lot."

Dorcas eyed Greyback's wand warily. "What do you think you're doing?"

But Greyback went on as if she hadn't spoken.

"When I get proof of your treachery, the Dark Lord will honor me! The power He will give me, and then we can run free, ridding the wizarding race of you lot. Filthy blood traitors!"

"I already said that Regulus holds the other mirror." Dorcas aimed for sounding bored. "The Dark Lord wouldn't appreciate being asked to deal with petty arguments."

"You lie! I can smell it. Your fear..."

"The Dark Lord expects more than some-" Dorcas scoffed- "animal instinct."

Dorcas saw the tiny, almost imperceptible movement- the slight tightening of the hand around the wand as Greyback attacked. She shouted a disarming spell but the werewolf's hunter instincts were faster than her own and she found herself once again at the receiving end of a spell.

_"I think you are all talk, Meadowes. You can't do it," the witch taunted, "or maybe you desire to do it. Then you can get thrown out of Hogwarts, that way you can go to school with your squib sister-"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

_The witch was thrown back against the wall. As the witch's wand flew over Dorcas' head, she tried to catch it, but it slipped through her fingers so she leveled her wand at the witch's face, instead._

_The witch's eyes widened as she stared into the tip of Dorcas' wand. Then her eyes focused on Dorcas' face._

_"Dars," Dorcas called out over her shoulders. Her voice had trembled so she took a couple of deep breaths before she spoke again. "Run. Go to mum and da. If I'm not with you in half an hour, that's the only time you tell them what happened."_

_"Cas..."_

_"Just go. Now."_

_During their conversation, the witch made to move towards her wand. Dorcas pointed her own in that direction._

_"Reducto."_

_The witch's wand splintered. Dorcas felt the reverberation up her arm as her wand connected with the other wand's core._

_"Meadowes." There was a hint of desperation in her voice. "Who would have thought those two mudblood lovers would have a child such as you. I can now see the darkness in you. You save her now, but in the future you will betray her. There's hope for you yet." The witch's mouth slowly moved into a sinister smile. "What will you do to me now? Do they teach you the Unforgivables in Hogwarts? Go ahead, young lady. The curse is Cruciatus. Say it: Cruciatus!"_

Dorcas felt the anger of the memory, but this time it was refreshed, as if she was experiencing it for the first time. At the same time, she knew that Greyback felt her anger too and it was this invasion, not only of her memories but also of her emotions that strengthened her resolve.

_"Silencio!" She said in her memory._

_The witch's hands flew to her throat as her voice was muted._

_"I will turn around and leave. And you will let me. Or I will call the Aurors on you."_

The invasion of her mind was getting weak and ever so insidiously, probably because Greyback wasn't expecting it, Dorcas accessed his mind.

_For a moment, there were nothing- no sounds, no images- just fear, tangible and overwhelming. It was fear that preceded the memory. _

_Then there were eyes, golden and hypnotic, gazing out from the darkness. These were followed by a soft growling and a deep rumbling breath and if it weren't for the unblinking orbs in the blackness it almost sounded like a creature slumbering._

_Then it happened so quickly that Dorcas wasn't quite sure how. All her eyes could make out was a moving shadow then she heard the scream._

_"Mummy! No mummy! No..."_

_The sudden appearance of light made Dorcas blink, although the room wasn't very bright. Firelight flickered in the grate behind a man who was standing menacingly in front of a woman and a boy latched in an embrace._

_"How can you do that? To our son!" The man thundered. The wand in his hand shook in anger. "Crucio!" _

_The woman screamed. _

_"Dad!"_

_The boy placed himself in between the wand and his mother, receiving part of the spell himself._

_"I could not help it." The woman whimpered, once the spell was over. "I wasn't myself. Please..."_

_"You vile, filthy creature!"_

_"Dad, stop it..." _

_"You-" The man raged. "Do not call me that-"_

Unable to take anymore of the memories, Dorcas wrenched her mind away.

Learning Occulomency was part of Incolumitas training to keep their minds from being probed and she barely passed the course. She was never able to master it because she disliked the hours and hours of training that required her to invade the privacy of another person's mind and her incursion into Greyback's memories was probably due to his lack of skill to keep her out than any great magic on her part.

The immense cruelty that she saw further cemented her dislike of the skill because she had no right to see something so raw and painful.

Greyback lowered his wand and she mirrored his action. And for the first time in a long while she allowed her face to show her emotions, that she was torn between her empathy over his past and such intolerable cruelty and her anger over what he had done to her.

It hardly counted for anything but it was the only thing she could do before she Disapparated.

They had both revealed too much of themselves tonight, and there were no words left.

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The tapestry was the highlight of the room. The stylized serifs and curlicues of the letters commanded eyes to stare and the curving branches and leaves of silk thread gilded silver beckoned the attention of the single occupant of the room.

It was like the who's who of Dark Wizarding Elite.

Dorcas could not take her eyes away. Mostly she stared at the singe marks. There were seven of them, some of which she did not know, but she was certain of three.

Alphard was the uncle who owned the shop in Knockturn Alley and who bequeathed his wealth to Sirius.

She knew Andromeda Tonks nee Black from the Incolumitas files- married a muggleborn wizard and mothered a metamorphmagus.

And Sirius.

Most of what she knew of Sirius weren't from files.

Her hand hovered slightly over Regulus' name before finally settling her palm on the round singe mark where Sirius' name should have been.

At the sound of footsteps approaching the room, Dorcas quickly dropped into a chair and pretended to be bored.

"... thank you, Kreacher." Regulus' voice floated from the corridor outside the room before the knob turned and the door opened with a whinny creak.

"Cassie." Regulus greeted her warmly with a charming smile. There were a few lines on his forehead, which Dorcas suspected was because of the mission that Voldemort assigned him to, but mostly he looked relaxed. It was the warmest greeting she had in days. He even, Dorcas realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, changed his robes.

He took one look at her face and the state of her black Death Eater robes, and the smile on his face vanished.

"You came from a meeting." His tone was accusatory. "So this is how it is?"

The sinking feeling got worse. She had come to ask him a favor and after his tone of voice, she did not know if it was wise to proceed. But Regulus started talking once more.

"I did not delude myself that we're in lo-" he stopped short and pursed his lips "-that has never been how it was with our kind but I had hoped that at least you could have come to care for me."

He stared hard at her Death Eater robes and Dorcas understood.

"...you only come here on Death Eater business. What is it that keeps you around,_ Cassie_?"

He spat out her name and she flinched at the sound and at the implications of his accusation.

There were other ways to get the speculum, Polyjuicing herself, Confounding or even Imperiousing Greyback, but what happened in the meeting shook her so hard that in her desperation she grasped at the first solution that occurred to her. She did it without thought or consideration of the consequences, the least of which were Regulus' feelings.

How much better was she than the Death Eaters she claimed to be fighting? She had overlooked another person because he stood in the way of a goal.

"Is it Death Eater business?" He prompted.

"No," she whispered ashamedly.

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

Regulus gave a dry laugh. "Well come on. You're here now. You might as well say it."

She saw her mistake and she knew that Regulus was determined to find out why she had come.

"Something was taken from me. A communicating speculum was taken by Greyback."

"A communicating speculum?" Regulus echoed. Dorcas could almost see his thoughts whirring away.

"You want me to take it back from Greyback?" He laughed without humor. "That's sheer impossibility with his kind. Perhaps you should talk to Lucius."

"No, I'll get it back. I just... Well if they ask you, I need you to say that you hold the other end."

"So who has it?"

She had no strength to lie; yet she needed to say one more to make the story believable.

Dorcas' eyes focused on the spot behind Regulus' head. On a scorch mark that marred his family tree.

"My sister." It came out as a plea and a whisper. "My twin sister. A squib."

"Squibs have no place in the New Order," he said and it was emotionless. There was no judgment in his voice. Just facts.

"She is as pureblooded as-" Dorcas shook her head. "I won't defend my actions. But I cannot kill her. If you wish to kill me now..."

"Putting yourself in my mercy." He gave a dry laugh. "We both know you're faster with a wand."

"I won't get far. Not in this house."

He acknowledged her statement with a nod. Then he met her eyes, scrutinizing her. His eyebrows furrowed, for what reason she did not know, but still he held her gaze as if searching for answers.

"Kreacher," he called out, finally speaking. "Would you please show Miss Meadowes out?"

The gently worded thank you Kreacher was the last she heard before the closing door behind her shut out the sounds of 12 Grimmauld Place.

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**AN:** Thanks for all your reviews! I do hope that all of you have read DH and enjoyed it before taking a look at this. After all, nothing beats the real thing.

This chapter of LC's quite dark with some role reversal going on, the good guys making bad choices and the baddies coming off as sympathetic. I'm really apprehensive with this one, but I do hope it's in keeping with the tone and the themes of the story.

I hope it's not falling into the realms of melodrama.


	28. Reminisces 4:The risk it took to blossom

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Reminisces 4: T****he risk it took to blossom**

The routinary life in Remus' house helped Sirius in regaining his balance. Good meals and decent clothes on his back kept his demons at bay, and while he was still prone to moody fits and reminiscing at odd times, he had been able to sleep better than he had in years.

After owling or flooing as many Order members as he can, Sirius found himself with absolutely nothing to do. So after a mere week in Remus' house, Sirius had become dangerously anxious. He needed action and could not abide just sitting around like a wanted criminal on the run should. So in that week, he had leveled a path in Remus' carpet from all his pacing. This made Remus suggest that he pace in the yard since it might spare them the back breaking trouble of spelling the grass to a decent height when it starts to grow out.

Then, much to the relief of Remus' carpet, Sirius had an idea. It came to him with the same inspiration of his childhood pranks which would probably explain why it had screws loose and was a few nuts short of a mental institution.

Something very unusual happened that day. Remus let loose a few expletives that would have made Sirius proud. The reason for the sudden outburst was in Remus' hand- a very hastily scribbled that mentioned Sirius intentions for the day.

"Sirius, why couldn't you be prudent for once?" Remus muttered.

It was a good thing that Sirius wasn't in the house or he would have to face a very irate werewolf and it was nearing the full moon. Of course Remus Lupin, being a sensible bloke, had a right to all of his expletives. Very few things could top the imprudent thing that Sirius did: being the most wanted criminal in British Wizarding history, he just had to visit the Moody's house.

8888

Seated facing each other in a living room having butterbeer, Sirius and Moody looked very much like a couple of old friends having catching up on the latest quidditch news if it weren't for the stunned auror in the sofa next to them.

"So you're finally back from Merlin knows were Black," Moody grunted. "The old gang's up and about?"

"That's the plan. I visited Arabella, sent the message moving along. Remus and I flooed some of the others." Then carefully noting Moody's expressions he added, "sorry about your last year."

"Part of the bloody job," Moody snorted. "Sorry about your last 13 years."

Sirius gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, me too."

"You know, Black," Moody gamely changed the topic, "your cousin just finished Auror Training."

"Cousin?"

"Nymphadora Tonks, the metamorphmagus."

"Little Dora? Great Merlin, Andi must have had an apoplexy." There was a wistful expression on Sirius' face. "Haven't seen them in a long time."

"She's not a kid anymore, Sirius." Moody said, interrupting this onset of sentimentality. Being a veteran of a war and a few dangerous skirmishes, Moody understood the dangers of regressing into nostalgia.

"I know." Sirius tone was curt.

Softening his underhanded reprimand, Moody continued fondly. "Well, she's a Black, through and through. During her entrance interview, she said something along the lines of the Great Black Answer."

Sirius groaned. "I'd hope they had forgotten about that."

The Great Black Answer had been a running joke among the Marauders and James, Remus, Peter and Lily had teased him mercilessly about it.

Moody gave a shout of laughter that sounded like a growl. "It's a part of Auror oral history now. I hear it works at pubs, too."

Sirius looked at him slyly. "You tried it personally then?"

Moody returned an exasperated expression. Only from Moody, sans a chunk of his nose and with a magical eye, exasperated came out as intimidating and he knew that it had frightened more than a few cadets in the Auror Training Program. Sirius merely smiled.

"No matter what we do," Moody growled, "once they're in the barracks, the older recruits pass it down to the younger cadets. Tonks had a blast when she found out you said it. Too damn proud of you for her own good, you being a wanted criminal and all that."

"It must be from all that ice cream I used to buy her when she was a kid. Andi told me off a lot for that."

"Probably the clumsiest witch to pass the Auror Training Program. But she's better than the lot of them." Moody nodded his head towards the unconscious Auror on his couch that Sirius had stunned to get into the house. "Don't know why they even bother sending me these poncy bodyguards."

Then turning serious, Moody continued. "I get the need to do something Sirius. A year in a trunk… well, you get the picture. But you can't go on doing something like this. The gang's informed. But if you want to help some more, the Order needs a headquarters."

Sirius gave him a shrewed look as he understood the implications. "And Grimmauld Place is unplottable and undetectable and most likely forgotten."

Moody's approving smile only worsened his disfigurement. "And as of now, it only responds to the most direct Black heir. Once you're in, we can do a charm to reveal it to the others."

"It's not exactly safe..." Sirius began, then stopped. "I'll think about feasibility."

"Good. Better than you traipsing around here." Moody gave an impatient huff at the still unconscious auror. "Despite how green these kids are.".

Sirius laughed. "The recruits are soft, Moody. I got in here undetected."

"I always knew you'd make a fine Auror, Black. I recruited you, after all. Too bad you had to quit."

"Like you said Moody, part of the job. Dumbledore needed someone."

"Think about Grimmauld Place. Now come on," Moody said directing him towards the door. "Have to get you out of here so I can enervate my bodyguard. Couldn't have one of Britain's finest getting brain damage from the spell you cast on him."

**

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**

**AN:**

1/7/2011: chapter re-uploaded due to technical difficulties!

HpColdplay: Thank you for pointing that out. When I'm logged in and I use live preview, this chapter is uploaded. But when I try to access the story when I'm not logged in, like an anonymous reader, I can't view this chapter. I still have to contact 's mgt regarding this but thank you for pointing it out.

Anyway, to HpColdplay and passing bells, thank you for coming back to read. I absolutely suck having left this for such a long time.

* * *

Sorry for the long hiatus. I probably don't have any readers for this anymore but I came back because I don't want to leave things undone.

The title came from Anais Nin - And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to Blossom

And what is the Great Black Answer? -_ I don't just know how to use a wand. I'm good at it, too._- Sirius Black during his entrance interview to the Auror Training Program. ;p


	29. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

A few weeks was more than enough time for a man to calm down and collect himself. Or so it should be, but as Sirius closed his shop for lunch, he realized that he was far from composed. Perhaps it was the incongruity of the action, the seeming ordinary-ness of locking down a shop, compared to the insidious chaos of the silent war around him, people vanishing from their beds, muggle houses blowing up in the night- covered up in the media, that fueled his anger. Perhaps it's because it has been weeks and there's no mirror and no news from Dorcas regarding it or any Death Eater activity at all.

Then of course there was the argument with Dorcas. Her tears, the pain and disappointment in her face would come back to him at the most inappropriate moments, when ringing up a sale, in the middle of a conversation with James, and it would cause an uncomfortable churning in his stomach, and all he wanted to do was to reach out and wipe away her tears. Then he would remember Regulus and the inappropriateness of the notion would strike him and anger would bloom and settle as a leaden weight in his stomach.

Anger was somehow therapeutic.

He trudged his way through the dusty cobblestones of Knockturn Alley returning the shifty glances of the various suspicious characters with furtive looks of his own and made his way to Diagon Alley, into the sunlight and the illusion of well being.

The note had said to meet for ice cream, which sounded too much like his cousin for him to suspect a trap.

The regal woman with the little girl was easy enough to spot, sitting by the window of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Andromeda Tonks was without a doubt a Black, evident in the way she lifted her aquiline nose and squinted her deep set eyes. From a far, Sirius was struck by how much she was like Bellatrix.

"Hullo Sirius." Andromeda stood up and planted a kiss on both his cheeks. "Thanks for coming."

He gave her a smirk before enveloping her in a hug. "Yeah, you know how important that shop is. Uncle Alphard will be devastated if I didn't continue with tradition." His smile widened at her answering laugh. "You look good Andi."

Sirius took a seat opposite her and leaned over to ruffle the very long and very blond locks of the small girl beside him. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Not sweetheart. My name is Nymphadora." The girl said pertly and punctuated her statement with a big spoonful of ice cream. She took another scoop and pointed it toward him. "You want some?"

Sirius swallowed the spoonful then gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Do you want me to get you another one?"

It was their ritual. Whenever Sirius visited their home, he always brought her ice cream.

"Sirius, don't give her any ideas." Andromeda gave the two of them her stern look, which was one part exasperation and one part annoyance. It was the look she reserved for misbehaving puppies or when Nymphadora needed to be told more than twice.

Sirius managed to look contrite. "I'll just get her something else later."

"Good. As long as it's educational."

Sirius and Nymphadora threw her matching incredulous looks.

He turned to the little girl. "So why is your hair blond, sweetheart?"

"She's going through a Razoompel phase," Andromeda answered.

"It's Rapunzel, mum." Another spoonful of ice cream to punctuate her statement. Andromeda reached over and wiped away the smudge on Nymphadora's nose.

"Sorry. Ranzupel."

Nymphadora threw Sirius an exasperated expression that was quickly quelled by a glance from her mother.

"Ted's reading her muggle fairy tales again?" Sirius asked after returning Nymphadora's grin. "I thought you hated those. How did you phrase it? _Inaccurate depiction of witches and wizards in muggle literature furthering the perpetuation of lies and straining wizard-muggle relations._ I bet your Muggle Studies professor appreciated that."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "That was before I started living with a muggleborn spouse. It's like an ambassadorial position. You think you understand each other but something always gets lost in translation."

"So how's Ted?" Sirius asked, genuinely interested. He had met Ted Tonks a few times and had liked him instantly. He found Ted unassuming, strong willed and brave, the right person to match Andromeda's stubbornness and to deal with the constant threat of _Toujours Pur_.

"Ted's good. We're very happy." Andromeda paused. "Considering. Even in these times."

No clarification was needed.

"That's nice to hear. I'm sure your mother _wouldn't_ say the same. When I got your note, for a while you had me worried."

"Sirius, I'll come out and ask. Are we safe here?"

Andromeda reached out and patted his hand; he was reminded of being ten and how he had gone to her after being told off by his mother. She was used to being the strong one. She needed to know the truth.

"No."

Andromeda's face fell. "I was hoping that this was still something that the Ministry can handle."

Sirius sighed. "It's not yet all out but it might blow up soon."

"What might blow up?" A little voice beside them chirped up.

They both turned towards Nymphadora at the same time and the look of curiosity on her face warned them that she might understand more than what they expect her to.

"Look at the ice cream, Nymph. I'll buy you anything you like," Sirius said ruffling her hair and forcing himself to smile for her benefit. Nymphadora appealed to her mother.

"Go ahead, Nymphadora." Andromeda planted a kiss on her forehead. Then added more sternly: "but just this once."

The little girl gave both Sirius and Andromeda big hugs and ran straight for the counter, judging the merits of the various combinations of sprinkles, syrups and flavors.

"Ted knows someone who can take us to France and we both don't know if we should stay and, I don't know, do something? Or just run; take Nymphadora away from this." Andromeda closed her eyes. "I don't know if I'm being a coward by thinking about leaving. But Ted will definitely be hunted by Bella."

"So will Nymphadora."

"You think so Sirius? Even if she's blood?"

Sirius looked over his shoulder at the now blonde child excitedly gibbering to the witch at the counter regarding the merits of the various flavors. Then he nodded.

"There's this hole where your name used to be, Andi and nothing after that. No mention of Ted or Dora."

Andromeda gave another sigh knowing exactly what he was referring to.

"Come with us Sirius." The earnest look she gave him warmed his heart yet at the same time broke it a little bit. He knew that if Andromeda decides to go, this would be their goodbye.

"I can't, Andi." He flashed a grim smile. "I'm needed here."

"Can't help yourself, can you." She gave a dry laugh. "Always in the thick of things." Then her voice broke and Sirius' heart broke a little bit more at the welling of her eyes. Reaching out, he wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye.

They were interrupted as Nymphadora bounded excitedly towards their table but stopped short, taking in the scene. Andromeda hastily wiped her tears. "Mum, are you crying?"

Sirius gave Andromeda's hand a reassuring pat then turned gamely to the little girl. "No sweetheart. Your mum just got some dust in her eyes. So what did you get? Are you going to let your mum and me taste?"

Sirius pasted a smile on his face and tried to push down the wave of sadness. This might be the last time he sees the both of them for a long time.

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Something had changed and Dorcas did not know if it was merely herself- her survival instincts finally blooming into full blown paranoia or if things were really worsening with the passing of the days. Lucius hasn't called for a meeting recently which made her wonder if she was now considered out of favor with the Dark Lord.

There was definitely something not quite right in the area. It was evident in the silence, which was thick and heavy despite being at the edge of the woods. There were no animal sounds, not even crickets chirping.

_The animals know._

Dorcas wrapped her legs around the branch she was perched on, pushed a few leaves away from her field of vision and peered through her binoculars at the log cabin a hundred or so meters away. The information that it was the den of Greyback and his pack was care of Jillian and because there seemed to be no other way to go about it that Dorcas decided it was time to sneak into the place and steal the mirror back.

She was grateful that it wasn't windy. At least she didn't have to worry about keeping updraft so her scent won't travel too fast.

She tapped the earphones and tinkered with the parabolic microphone in her hands, adjusting for the spell that allowed it to continue functioning despite the magic in the air and focused it on one of the windows of the log cabin.

"-like we talked about. Make sure they're prepared." She recognized the voice. _Lucius._

"You're insulting me Malfoy." Greyback's snarling voice boomed from the earphones. "My wolves are always ready. If you're looking for weakness talk to your Slytherin friends. Meadowes for insta-"

"Enough! Just make sure they're ready for the attack."

Dorcas heard the pop of Disapparition followed by the growl of Greyback and the sound of objects smashing into a wall or the floor.

Amidst the cacophony, a soft voice called.

"Sir…" It was the voice of a child.

"Yes, Lyka?"

"Rom and me's were patrolling when there was this smell and-"

"- Sir what Lyka meant to say was-" a deeper voice interrupted.

"Romulus, let the child finish," Greyback snarled.

"Sir, we smelled something." The voice of Lyka, trembling now, continued. "Then we looked and looked and we saw the open window in your room. We followed the smell. Saw him at the woods. We tried to catch him. We scratched him up some but he… he Disa…." The child's voice broke. The deeper voice continued.

"-We were able to snatch this."

Greyback's growl reverberated into Dorcas's earphones. She wondered what they were able to snatch from the intruder but from the increasing volume of growls and the heavy breathing, it seemed as if Greyback had pieced together who the intruder was. There was a dull _thunk_, the sound of a body hitting concrete floor, followed by a protracted sob.

"Regulus Black." Greyback muttered. The child's sob became a full-fledged sob. Go, Lyka." Greyback's tone was low, but it sounded like he was ordering the younger member of his pack to leave. "Go before I-"

Dorcas didn't wait for what happened next. She had already Disapparated.

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**AN: **Thank you everybody for staying, for reading. It means a lot and I have no words. An explanation is warranted for the "magicked" parabolic microphone. Parabolic microphones do exist in reality and I needed something that functions the same way as the extendable ears do in the books, but the ears are a new invention of the twins and therefore, I'm assuming not available in Marauders era. The Incolumitas division, whose point is something that can blur a few bureaucratic lines, seems like the type to borrow from both worlds.


	30. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"_... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..._"

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

She found him sitting on the steps in front of her house with his head in his hands and his right jacket sleeve missing a big torn swath of cloth. From between his fingers rivulets of blood streamed down and tapped a steady tattoo onto her welcome mat.

"I am so sorry," Dorcas whispered, breaking Regulus out from his reverie and finally alerting him to her presence His expression when he finally looked up was accusatory and if he wondered what she was sorry for, he did not ask. He looked pale and peaky and the way he moved, she guessed he was a bit dizzy.

Wordlessly, he handed her the communicating speculum then Disapparated.

The only place she could think of that he would go to was 12 Grimmauld Place and that's where she followed.

She managed to catch him just as he was entering the house.

"Regulus."

But he had gone through the front door and had left her on the front steps to endure the ordeal of dealing with the most frightening house elf she had ever seen.

"Master says you stays in his room first," said the surly house elf, not at all making her feel welcome. "Master Regulus still talking with Mistress."

Dorcas was relieved to be spared the formality of greeting Regulus' mum. She doubted her tear-streaked face and disarrayed hair would curry favors on her behalf.

This was her first time alone in Regulus' room and now, after everything that has happened, everything that he has done for her, she acceded that perhaps she should try to get to know him and at least understand him better. She studied the room to get a feel for his personality. She tried to see beyond the Slytherin-like interior design but the silver and green was overwhelming. She poured over the pictures on the wall with her eyes settling on the Slytherin Quidditch team shot. Regulus was seated in the center- the seeker's position- and looked composed, hardly smiling. But there was one shot, out of place and tucked partly behind all of the others that caught her eye. Using her fingers, she pried it off. It was a candid shot of two black haired boys, maybe around six or seven, both smiling impishly and licking ice cream off cones, most of which were smeared on their faces. Flipping the picture over, Dorcas saw a handwritten note: _Boys, I heard about the Quidditch argument. You're both too old to be bribed with ice cream. So I'll try reason. If you want to have privileges over the hols, don't let any arguments at Hogwarts reach your parents. Besides, please remember when all is said and done, you are still brothers. Andi_

Then she remembered. And she almost slapped her head for letting the lines between real and make-believe blend together and forgetting that she was a spy.

She found the specific drawer of the dresser where Regulus hid the note she had delivered to him all those weeks ago still locked. She whispered every unlocking, unwarding spell she knew until the drawer unlocked with a soft click. Another spell dulled the sound of the wood sliding against wood as she pulled the drawer open.

There it was. In the middle of the drawer and carefully folded was the parchment containing the plans for what the Order had been suspecting was a major mission.

In minutes, the contents of the parchment have been copied and the duplicate has been shrunk and disguised and hidden in one of the secret pockets of her robes.

Dorcas returned the parchment and all the other contents of the drawer as she found them and she straightened up just as Regulus stepped into his room.

The cut that had dripped all over her front steps was already sealed magically, and he looked less pale, probably due to a blood replenishing potion, but there was a darkening bruise over his left temple and dried blood still caked his hands.

The communicating speculum and the copied plans burned a hole in her pocket, the heightened awareness of them, she knew, was a result of her conscience.

She thought of her lie. She thought of the danger he had put himself through for her. She thought of her engagement.

_It was a job._

Yet somehow, it felt like a betrayal.

"Reg-"

He interrupted her with an outstretched finger and an accusatory glance before turning away from her to look at the bruise in the dresser mirror. He waved his wand a few times on the bruise on his temple, and she watched as it subsided into a fading green. She tried to meet his eyes in the mirror but he avoided her glance.

"I'm so-"

"Don't." His voice was angry, arrogant. He rubbed his hands over his face before finally looking at her.

It was gone. The Lucius Malfoy facsimile that he always adapted was gone, and in his place was the quiet, uncertain boy that she remembered from Hogwarts.

"I'm not really mad at you. I'm mad at me." He laughed bitterly. "I'm stupid. I almost got killed for that." Then he finally met her eyes. "And it doesn't really change anything, does it?"

His blue eyes were unusually dark; leached of their color they reminded her of someone else's.

Her voice felt stuck in her throat and it was awhile before she was able to answer, but at least it wasn't a lie. "It changes something. It tells me that you have compassion."

"But it doesn't change what I was hoping it would. I'm not stupid. Us, we don't marry for the same reasons the mudbloods do. There are bloodlines and respectability and name to think about. But sometimes I hope…"

He moved to stand in front of her then cupped her face with his hands. Then his thumb was stroking her cheek. "Dorcas, tell me, what do you think it would take to make this real?"

She dropped her eyes, unable to hold his gaze. She actually understood where this was coming from, understood more than she was willing to admit. His need for someone- not his parents or his _friends_ who seemed to prioritize toujours pur more than anything- but someone for _himself_, as Regulus and not as a Black, to feel something, to validate that he too was important in their constantly shifting world of deceit and death was something that she could relate to, and she was sure that this compassion he demonstrated was more him, the real him than any of the strange Lucius-like affectations that he has developed over the last few months. It was so easy to give into it, with this kindness that was the real Regulus and his looks that were so familiar, so similar.

Especially now when Sirius was mad at her for some unfathomable reason, mad at her even before she made that stupid mistake about losing the mirrors.

But it wasn't the same. She heard his bitter laugh and she knew that her answer must have been evident in her face. She felt his hands fall from her face.

"Is there someone?"

"There is no one, Regulus." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't completely the truth. "Just my sister." And it was still painful in the telling. And because she felt she owed him, she shared something infinitely valuable to her. "I know it's against what the Dark Lord wants. But she's my sister, my twin. Her name is Darcy, and she's my life."

He sighed and when he opened his eyes, his anger had diminished. He merely nodded.

"I need to rest," he said as a goodbye as if he understood that there wasn't going to be anymore truths to be told that night.

She took that as her time to leave.

888

"I hope they don't cancel Quidditch." Peter announced trailing his eyes on the decor of the pub. Quidditch robes of the various teams playing in the English League hung side by side on the walls, the dizzying yellow and black of the Wimbourne Wasps' uniform clashed horribly with the bright orange ones of the Chuddley Cannons. A broom signed by Glynnis Griffiths, the Hollyhead Harpie's seeker, held the place of honor on the topmost shelf behind the bar.

It was all so bright. The decor had the quality that could aggravate hangovers and make alcoholics repentant which was why the pub's immense popularity had Sirius suspecting an attraction charm.

Sirius found it telling of their society that- despite a great number of shops closing down because of the escalating violence, either due to the owners fear for themselves or the lack of clients- this pub was still open and seemed unaffected. Quidditch was a great equalizer of muggle born and purebloods. Like death and taxes.

"I reckon James, you should have accepted the Montrose Magpies' offer." Peter took a swig from his draft. "You're better than bloody Hammish Saunders dropping the quaffle in the last Cup. Cost them the game."

James shrugged. "They offered me reserves. It wasn't like I turned down the chance to play in the World Cup."

"Yeah, but I hear Lachlan Madley is going to play first string this season and your better than him," Peter said. "Remember that game in sixth year, he missed an unblocked goal. Tell him Sirius."

Sirius looked up from his study of the bottom of his glass. "Huh?"

"Help a bloke here. This is the part where you say, 'Pete's right James, you should have accepted the offer and by now you'd be on the main team. You can get us into the best parties in town, meet all the fit birds." Peter finished an uncannily accurate imitation of Sirius with a flourish. Sirius gave a noncommittal grunt.

"I take it Sirius isn't a fan of your impersonation," Lily commented, a half smile on her face. Seeing Sirius's distracted look, Lily tapped his forearm. "Here's where you say you don't need my boyfriend to meet fit girls.

"Yeah." Sirius answered, still looking at the bottom of his glass, obviously having no idea as to what he was agreeing to.

"Well you're quiet." Lily gave him a sympathetic look. James and Peter seemed to have moved on. "Absolutely no opinion on whether swallowing the snitch could count as a win?" She continued with the conversational gambit as she rolled her eyes at James and Peter.

Sirius shrugged. "Worried about Remus." It was a half lie; he _was worried _about Remus. _Among other things._ He sensed he wasn't fooling Lily one bit.

When James flooed to tell him that their long neglected tradition of weekly dinner was at this pub, he also said that when he tried to deliver the same news to Remus, he couldn't find him. According to the Lupins, he was on a research assignment from a private contractor. Between Remus's lie the last time, and since Remus usually told them if he was leaving town, Sirius didn't believe there was a research assignment.

But his foul mood, if he was honest to himself, he knew wasn't only due to Remus's absence.

"Remus," Lily threw him a disbelieving look, "_right._"

"What about Remus?" A voice behind them interrupted.

All four glanced up to see Remus standing by their table dressed in what looked like clothes he had slept in and two days growth of beard.

"Bollocks, Moony." James's comment came with a grimace. "I hope you look like that because you came from a shag."

"James." Lily said warningly. James threw her a sheepish look.

"The trousers fit you well, Lils." Remus grinned at her.

"No, really Moony," Sirius interrupted their banter with an accusatory tone. "Where_ have_ you been?"

Remus waved him off. "Some small town library in Bristol. This wizard wanted me to look into an archive of old parchment supposedly written by a long gone ancestor of the Parkinsons. One of their dead branches. Ended up reading 16th century Manor house inventory. Boring as hell."

Sirius snorted in disbelief.

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "Care to voice something out, Padfoot?"

Sirius knew Remus's calm demeanor was a façade and this close to the full moon Remus tended to exert alpha male traits.

"Seriously, boys," Lily's voice was stern, "we hardly see each other anymore and when we do, you two have to fight. Can't take my menagerie anywhere!"

Remus tore his gaze away from Sirius first and addressed Lily. "I am surprised Moody gave you time off?"

Lily had a weary expression on her face, as if this was an issue that has been plaguing her for some time. She looked around to see if anyone was listening in on them before she dropped her voice and continued. "We've always suspected that Voldemort has some hold in the Ministry. And Moody being how he is, not sure who to trust, started putting Kingsley, me, Aurors who he can trust on most of the missions. Now Voldemort's not supposed to have an idea about the Order. But lately there's been rumors floating around the ministry about the Order and Moody doesn't want whoever is Voldemort's men in the Ministry to start looking closely at his biased rotation schedule. So I'm on break."

James threw Lily a concerned look before adding, "I'm just glad you get extra time off.

"Rumors are specifically mentioning the Order?" Remus asked.

Lily shook her head. "Just mentions that there are suspicions that Dumbledore's more organized than the Ministry."

"Do you think the DE knows Padfoot?" Peter asked.

"Why should I know?" Sirius said exasperatedly.

Peter shrugged. "You know," he whispered conspiratorially, "DE intelligence coming from your girl."

"Sod off! She's not my girl!" Sirius roared.

"Hey!" Peter raised his hands defensively. "Your girl. Meant it like your person. Like your man on the inside. Bollocks Sirius, I know you enjoy a lot of girls. It's not like I condemned you to monogamy. She's not even bloody nasty in the face. The way you said it, you make it sound like I congratulated you on shagging the Bloody Baron."

"Speaking of the Bloody Baron, do you think he ever got shagged?" James joked in an effort to diffuse the situation.

Remus winced at the lousy effort but gamely added his own comment. "Dead or alive, Prongs?"

"Either. Why not increase the odds for him."

"I still want to know if the DE suspects-" Peter suddenly had the expression of one who got kicked in the shins under the table and promptly fell silent.

"What do you _still_ want to know?" Sirius asked Peter pointedly, raring for a fight.

Remus cleared his throat. "Peter, I'm going to get a drink at the bar. Want to get a refill?"

"Count me in mate." Peter stood to follow him, all the while eying Sirius warily.

Lily waited for the two to be out of earshot before throwing Sirius a pointed look. "And they told me you were famous for your charm."

Sirius gnashed his teeth. He knew he was out of line, but his anger just seemed to simmer under the surface. He was angry at Dorcas for losing the mirror, angry at her for not telling him about her engagement to Regulus, angry for not being able to talk to her for a few weeks. He was also angry at Remus for lying. But most of all he was angry at himself, for doubting Remus, for doubting Dorcas.

"Mate…" James said.

"Bloody hell guys." Sirius let out a deep breath. "I'm…"

"It's fine," James said. "So where do you think Remus's been?"

"Don't know mate," Sirius growled, "hanging around werewolf bars again?"

Lily threw James a look as if gauging how far she could bring this conversation. Decided, she asked, "are you worried that considering how dangerous times are that he might do this again, leaving without telling you guys or do you think he's up to something?"

"A bit of both, luv," James answered

"You know, Remus might need to be around some of his own kind. I'm not saying you guys don't make him feel accepted." Lily rushed quickly through what she guessed would be protests. "The Marauders thing, I understand that. But these werewolves experience what he goes through month after month. Maybe he just needs that." She placed her hand on top of James and twined her fingers in his. "Sometimes a werewolf bar is just a bar, nothing else."

"It's just-" Sirius began.

James threw Sirius a look, the one that said they wouldn't win an argument against Lily, the one that he took to mean as _shut up_. Lily noticed the exchange and bit down a smile. She turned to James, "I'm going to the loo. You better fix him up." Then before leaving, she leaned towards him and gave him a kiss.

Sirius turned away to give the two a bit of privacy. Seeing the couple, there was a strange twisting in Sirius stomach as his mind shifted from thoughts of Remus and once more settled on thoughts of Dorcas.

What did he feel? Honestly, he didn't know. Even with the girls he had dated in the past, he had never believed himself in love and he didn't think any of his past relations could help him with this one. He was, however, certain that whatever intensity of anger or pain or frustration that he was feeling now towards Dorcas was new, something that he has never encountered before.

He envied James' certainty regarding his feelings for Lily. He remembered asking James once, all those years ago in Hogwarts,_ why Lily?_

James answer, Sirius realized now, was surprisingly mature for a seventeen year old student. He said he couldn't imagine a world without Lily and he was willing to work for a life with her in it.

However if there was something he was certain of, it was that he did care for Dorcas. He wondered if she got home at night safely. He wondered if the sleeping draught he made for her was still effective. He wondered if she cried herself to sleep thinking about her sister.

He couldn't understand the anger he felt towards her, the frustration, the twisting in his gut whenever he thought about her and Regulus. He realized it didn't matter what he felt because she was engaged and he needed to act professionally towards her.

"Padfoot!" James shouted over the din. Sirius shook his head and met his eyes.

"Glad you're finally with us." James gave him a wry smile. "Padfoot, the guys are inviting you." Sirius turned towards where James was pointing and saw Remus and Peter at another table with some witches in minirobes. He raised his glass towards them in a toast, not really looking at the girls.

"Why don't you join them. Might be good for you."

"Maybe later." Then he downed the firewhiskey in one go.

"We both know this isn't just about Remus." James began. "Dor-

"-I'm not going to talk about it, James." Sirius gave James a hard stare.

"Clearly." James downed his drink but did not break eye contact. "It's been weeks. Do something about it Padfoot. Don't tell me you're just annoyed with the mission because clearly it's bothering you more than just a mission should. Talk to her."

"We're not talking about this!" His outburst shocked him as much as James and Sirius consciously told himself to unclench his hands.

"Fine." James sounded resigned. He looked over his shoulder and when he was satisfied Lily was not in the vicinity he continued. "I wanted to talk to you about Lily." James nervously ran a hand through his hair and pushed his glasses up his nose a couple of times.

Sirius waited and waited. And waited some more.

After a deep breath, James blurted out, "I'm going to ask her."

Sirius felt his anger drain out of him, replaced by shock. He stared at James. Then stared some more.

James met his eyes. "What, no comment? Well that's good for my ego."

"Wow. I mean," Sirius laughed, "congratulations mate. Bollocks, I hope to Merlin she says yes because you definitely don't deserve her."

James guffawed. "Well thanks. Really encouraging mate."

"You told your parents?"

James nodded. "When I asked for the ring. Dad couldn't stop shaking my hands. Mum was crying."

Sirius laughed. "Is that a good sign?"

James joined in. "Yeah mate."

"When are you asking her?"

"I don't know yet. I mean I haven't really. I've got the ring but…" James trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you think I should do this? We're so young. Then with the war and everything?"

The question stopped Sirius. He thought a moment then he answered. "Yes, you should. It's dangerous, but this war could last for ten years and you guys should be together for that time."

James pushed his glasses up his nose then nervously ran his hands through his hair. "Thing is, Lils might want to wait after the war or until we're a bit older."

"Ask her anyway. Say you'll wait until she's ready. Just so she's reassured, so that she's not wondering."

"It doesn't work like that. She might feel pressured and break it off. I'm bloody frightened, Padfoot."

"Lily's not like that. Look, I may be the worst person to ask about marriage, but Lily's a smart girl. She's not the type of person to say the two of you are done because of bad timing."

"We have talked about it."

"And?"

"And..." James ran his hands through his hair more furiously. "She says okay then she talks about the war or work. As if it's an okay as if to move the conversation along."

"Then don't ask her. Yet."

"But I want to ask her."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

James didn't comment and instead swirled his drink around, as if looking for answers in the bottom of his tankard.

After a moment, Sirius raised his glass. "Congratulations. I guess. And good luck." He said softly.

James nodded. "Thanks man. If Lils says yes, you're my best man."

"Ask her first." Sirius laughed.

The sound of raucous laughter broke through their thoughts. It came from three tables down, where Remus, Peter and the girls in minirobes were seated.

Sirius downed his glass of firewhiskey in one go then shook his head. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I don't think I can stand more of this. I might snap at the two."

"Like you haven't already."

Sirius snorted. "Right. So I'm calling it an early night. Send my love to Lily."

"Old dog needs to get some sleep?" Then in a kinder voice, James added, "be careful Padfoot."

As he made his way to the door, he heard James shout from behind him. "Old bugger." He gave James the finger just as he left the pub.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks guys for reading and reviewing! It's touching to still hear from the old readers, the ones who have been reading this since I've started posting in 2005 and have stuck around. It's also wonderful to have new readers. I have maybe 10 chapters to go, and I'm hoping that 2011 is the year that this gets done.

Once in a blue moon, instead of replying to everybody, I do random reviewer responses. No favoritism there. I really appreciate all of you guys, I just rarely have time. Of course don't hesitate to ask questions. I'll do my best to answer them.

I'm hoping I get the next chapter up within a month. However I chanced upon a Pablo Neruda poem that reminded me so much of Draco/Astoria and now there's this half done one shot that's bugging me. If that story doesn't run out of steam and ends up being completed, then maybe that goes up first.


	31. Chapter 27 and 28

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:

"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..."

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Satisfied when the lock clicked in place and the faint tingling that comes with the resetting of the wards raised gooseflesh, when, suddenly, a muffled noise stopped Sirius short. Wand in hand, the sound brought him up the stairs, into his bedroom and straight to his bedside table.

The mirror had been brought to life.

He half bounded across the room and snatched the mirror so quickly that he surprised Dorcas.

"How'd you get it back?" Sirius asked. The question, which burst out in a moment of breathless curiosity, sounded accusatory, even to his ears.

He watched her face crumple into an expression of guilt and pain. Suddenly, he missed the stoicism she demonstrated when this mission started because_ he knew_ that her expression now, her pain, which appeared more frequently the longer she stayed undercover, would haunt his unguarded thoughts. It was almost unthinkable that he had once accused her of being emotionless.

"Regulus," Dorcas whispered. "He got it back from Greyback."

Sirius felt his stomach clench. His brother, _her fiancé_, managed to get the mirror back from Greyback when all Sirius could do was argue with her. He had to hand it to his brother, he had balls.

"Is he okay?"

"Injured but healing. He's in your family home."

The relief helped him breathe a little but the pain was still there.

"Dorcas, I…. I need to say…. What I mean is, I think I'm…."

"Sirius," Dorcas voice was weary but the shift to a more business-like tone was unmistakable. "I have the scroll they gave Regulus. It says they plan to attack 10 Downing Street."

Sirius's brow furrowed. "Muggle minister's residence?"

"And other Muggle public offices. I have a list." Talking about work seemed to stiffen her up. Gone was the pained expression and in its place was the determined one he was most used to seeing. "Worse. Voldemort's going to use werewolf attacks as agreed upon with Greyback."

"Fuck." The implications were astounding. "How are they going to control the werewolves?"

He knew from the numerous times he transformed with Remus that werewolves do not retain human consciousness in wolf state.

"But there is some retained sense of command from the alpha male. As long as Greyback intends to attack these places and they camp around the area before they transform… And it says here-" she read from the parchment- "that a '_spray of a decoction made from wolfsbane and nettles, developed by Snape, has the ability to sting the skin of any werewolf. As long as it is not ingested, then no deathly harm will come to the werewolves and this will be used to keep them in line._'"

Sirius laughed dryly. "Of course Snivellus would be involved. Not really a surprise. And I guess this would explain Emmaline's report. Why Chants Industries, Belladonna Incorporated and Magus Corp, were importing massive amounts of wolfsbane"

"All of the attacks, they were leading to this. A state of emergency for the muggles. Chaos. Anarchy. Minister Bagnold would be too busy straightening out muggle relations to protect the magical community," Dorcas finished.

Sirius shook his head. "And it would illustrate the Death Eaters' point perfectly. Voldemort as a powerful leader. Uncompromising on muggle relations."

"It's going to be a nightmare." Dorcas' voice pierced the silence.

"Read to me exactly what is on the plans. Let me take it down. Then I'll go to Dumbledore."

Sirius spelled a quill to copy the plans as Dorcas read it aloud. All the while, he watched her discretely trying to fathom her thoughts, trying to understand his feelings as well. He didn't know what he would say to her. He wanted to hear the exact story of how his brother got the mirror. And he wanted to ask her about their engagement.

"Sirius-" Dorcas called interrupting his musings.

She had finished reading all of the plans. The quill that had been transcribing her account was limp against his parchment. Sirius took a deep breath. "Look, I'm glad you're safe. I'm sorry that I was harsh with you the last time. It's just…."

"Sirius." Her voice was low and carried with it a warning. "I don't really want to talk-"

But he couldn't stop. "Are you engaged to Reg?" The question came out; he couldn't control the urge not to ask. Dorcas looked taken a back and for a brief moment he expected her to- no hoped that she would- deny it.

After a pause, her expression unreadable, she answered. "He proposed."

A strange feeling of defeat settled in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his jaw. "I know it's suicide with all the Death Eaters," Sirius began sarcastically, "but will you invite me to the wedding? Since he's my brother and all."

"He proposed. He wants me to say yes but I haven't. And the way things are, I don't think he expects me to say yes." Dorcas worried her lower lip. "Honestly, I'm hoping it wouldn't come to a wedding."  
A strange tightness unfurled in Sirius' chest, one that he did not realize was there at all until she said those words. Not knowing what to say, afraid he would say too much or state everything wrongly, he raised an eyebrow, hoping she'd continue.

She closed her eyes briefly as if mustering her courage then spoke. "When he proposed, he said it was for our bloodlines. There's no illusion of anything emotional. Perhaps affection. It was very," she paused, fishing around for a word, "clinical."

He didn't know what to make of this: anger, that his brother would end up getting hurt? Hope, that it was nothing? He forced his next question out. "Do you want to? Say yes, that is?"

"Marrying a Black seemed like something that a pureblood fanatic and young Death Eater would do. It's the perfect match…" She trailed off.

"So it's a cover? How does he-" Sirius hesitated- "feel for you?" He watched for her reaction. He knew that Regulus must have risked a lot by going to Greyback and getting the mirror and that couldn't have just been for nothing.

"I shouldn't be telling you this. He does have a right to his privacy.…"

"Does he _lo- feel _for you?" Sirius pressed, his voice rising.

"Why do you care?" Dorcas question came out pleadingly, a last resort to stop the conversation.

Sirius hesitated. She was right. Why did he care?

"Because he's still my brother! He deserves your honesty." It was the truth- at least one of the truths and one of his reasons.

"He does. But this is the job!" She sounded bitter. "So that's all this is about? It's only about your concern for him? Nothing else, huh?"

"Of course I'm concerned for him!" He was shouting now but he couldn't seem to stop. "I'm his…."

"Well he doesn't love me!" She shouted back, anger contorting her face into something frightening. "He doesn't! He's never said and I don't think he does. I think he wishes he did. And I think he wishes that I do, too. But we're not deceiving ourselves into feeling it."

"Not love?" Sirius returned sarcastically. "Then why would he go through the trouble of doing something so idiotically deadly?"

He read the guilt in her eyes. He watched as she lowered her lids.

"I know he cares for me. I told him Darcy held the other mirror." She raised her eyes to his. He had never seen that expression there before. It looked like she was apologizing. "I think he could relate to loving a sibling on the other side. I think it moved him."

It was a reply that soothed neither of them. Sirius had to look away for a moment. The statement floored him. It was full of the things that needed to be said that they both refused to acknowledge.

"So you manipulated him into getting it?"

"No!" She sounded shocked. "I only asked that if Greyback or Malfoy or any of the Death Eaters ask who holds the other mirror, to say that he did. Then I told him that I used it to talk to Darcy. But I didn't tell him to get it. I was going to sneak into Greyback's lair and get it myself."

They stared at each other for a time, both too angry to go on.

It was Dorcas who broke the stalemate. "What do you want to hear Sirius?" Her voice had turned soft, tired and too broken. "I admit all my faults? That I lied to him? That it's not a nice thing to do? That I'm using him with this engagement? I'm not proud of lying to him. I'm not proud of getting him hurt. I didn't know if I could keep my cover without making him think I'm considering it."

I'm not proud of attending all of the Death Eater meetings and bowing to that maniac and calling him Lord. I hate it when I have to go around calling half-bloods mudbloods to keep my cover. I hate it when I see an Auror go down during attacks and there's nothing I could do about it. That's what I tell myself, that there's nothing I could do about it. But there is something. I could break cover. I could have decided not to do this. But I chose this job and I chose this life and it's too late to stop and it's becoming harder to live with myself!"

Sirius watched as her face vanished from the mirror and all he saw was his own, but he couldn't forget her eyes, and the pain in them, and the guilt.

And his eyes mirrored much of the same as well.

888

An undercurrent of chill cut through the sultry night air heralding the coming of winter. The night was bright from moonlight. It was nearly full and Sirius was suddenly touched by nostalgia for those days when they used to roam through the forest as animals. Sirius landed next to the shrieking shack and cut the engine of his motorcycle. A quick dissimulo hid his bike and he stood back to survey his work. Satisfied, he entered the shrieking shack.

He sent his patronus ahead to Dumbledore and made his way through the tunnels towards the school. He crossed the grounds as a dog. In the distance he could see the Gryffindor tower still lit up with last minute crammers. Years of navigating the school and avoiding Filch had left him with an uncanny inkling of which corridors would be vacant even without the aid of the map and he reached the headmaster's office undetected.

"Sirius." The headmaster greeted once he stepped in to the office. "Tea perhaps, the trek to Hogwarts was possibly quite chilly."

With a wave of his wand, a tea set appeared in front of Sirius. He accepted graciously, although he couldn't quite shake the feeling that with everything happening that night, he wanted something stronger than brewed leaves. But alcoholic beverages were quite inappropriate in a school even for graduates.

"Sir, Dorcas has news of Death Eater plans." Then Sirius handed over the replica of the plans and proceeded to elaborate on what she told him.

"I was afraid of this," Dumbledore said as he rolled up the parchment. "An attack on the Muggle institutions would affect our relations with muggleborns all the more. Can you imagine what it would be like?"

"Chaos," Sirius replied, an echo of what Dorcas said earlier.

"Not just chaos. Already some muggleborns have taken to hiding by going back into the muggle world. This would send a message: that they are not only unwelcome in the magical world but they are unfit to live wherever they are."

Sirius realized that Dumbledore looked weary. For all of Dumbledore's power they tended to forget that he too was human.

"Chaos," Dumbledore continued, "is just the added benefit of their exercise."

"There's no specific date when the attacks take place," Sirius began, "but the moon is full tomorrow."

Dumbledore peered at him over his steepled fingers then after an eternity answered, "I suspect that the attack would not take place tomorrow. Despite Lucius' desire to keep things on a need to know basis among the Death Eaters, an attack this big would generate some news even among their numbers. Dorcas would have heard of something, outside of acquiring these plans. However, it is prudent to be ready for every full moon. Sirius, inform Lily about the plans. Give a copy of this-" with a wave of his wand, the plans were duplicated- "She'll inform Alastor and Kingsley. Then tell James I'll get in touch with him regarding other Ministry departments. Afterwards, inform Arabella. She'll know which of her muggle contacts to inform."

Sirius nodded and sped out of Hogwarts.

888

The air was cool and musty, a reminder that they were underground, emphasized all the more by the absence of the enchantment on the ceiling. This was the second time Dorcas has been here that the ceiling was bare and it no longer alarmed her but the presence of another unspeakable did. She was thankful she wasn't claustrophobic. Without the enchantments deceiving the eye about the dimensions of the room, it felt cramped enough for two, and today there were three of them.

Tutela has never, in Dorcas's experience, briefed them in groups. Dorcas herself only knew a handful of other Unspeakables in the division and she recognized that this paranoia or vigilance- however it is viewed- was partly for their own protection.

The other Unspeakable was tall and lean with a squarish jaw, dark black hair and brown eyes. He was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors and he held himself comfortably balanced on both feet as if ready to spring into action at any time.

If he was as uncomfortable as Dorcas was feeling at the moment, his expression didn't show it.

"Fulmingham. Meadowes." Tutela pointed in their directions appropriately.

"Your return note said briefing at six a.m. but maybe I misread the time.…" Dorcas trailed off. The man, Fulmingham was still watching her with a curious expression.

"The time is correct." Tutela said, ending that discussion. "You said you've gotten hold of Regulus Black's document."

"Yes." She handed the document over which Tutela read with remarkable speed. Then she handed it over to Fulmingham, whose eyebrows rose as he read over the contents.

"This means epsilon is a go," Fulmingham said. He was addressing Tutela and Dorcas realized it wasn't a question. Her boss obviously trusted this Unspeakable.

Tutela nodded.

Fulmingham extended a hand towards her and with an amused expression said, "it was nice meeting you, Meadowes." With a pop, he was gone.

Dorcas bit back the questions that she wanted to ask, knowing that it wouldn't bode well with Tutela if she pushed for information.

Tutela regarded her for some time before speaking. "We have contingency plans for a few scenarios and an attack on muggle officials is one of them," she explained. "Fenwick has been sending me reports of your training sessions. He says that you've been distracted."

Dorcas bit her lip. "I've been troubled by Order business and it's been difficult to concentrate on training. I've mastered some of the spells needed for the Bulgaria mission but not all of them."

"Do you think you can still go?"

Dorcas desperately wanted to back out. If she agreed, she and Benjy would be sent to Bulgaria, in the midst of what they suspected would be the location of Death Eater camps. They wouldn't have back-up. She couldn't report to Tutela. She felt dizzy for a moment.

She wanted to say no but she didn't know how much they would be set back if she didn't agree to do this. She took a deep breath then met her bosses eyes. "Yes ma'am."

Tutela leveled her with an assessing look then snapped her wrist. A piece of parchment appeared on her desk. After a few minutes Tutela gave a long exhale. "I'm not particularly happy. You're skill set is a bit short but none of the others that we have training for this mission is as far along as you. It will have to be you." She handed Dorcas the paper. Contacts. Dates. Times. All the information she needed. Dorcas memorized these then burned the parchment. "We'll send the paper work to the Apparition Test Center for your transfer. Since our Ministry does not conduct business with Bulgaria, it will say that you've been transferred to France."

"And this is the cover I'll give Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"This cover," Dorcas began hesitantly, "there are too many loose ends."

"Yes. Unfortunately it is the best that we can do with the time and resources we have. The Death Eaters have their people everywhere, infiltrating too many of the Ministry's departments." Then giving her an expression that was strangely sad, Tutela added, "good luck, Meadowes."

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Anonymity being the goal, taking the circuitous route was worth it. Dorcas was certain that she was not followed. Glamour spells and tracking spells aside, Death Eaters would not have bothered, not this far out into the country into a completely muggle town.

She hoped this wasn't wishful thinking on her part.

She made her way to the far end of Main Street to a small country inn, which still had the same beige stone face and white window trimmings of long ago. Everything felt the same as it had been the last time she was here, the summer before she went to Hogwarts, as if she had used a Time Turner and stepped back to when she was ten.

The proprietress of the inn pointed her to the back where a swing was hidden among the drooping branches of a willow.

Her sister's red tipped, spiky, closed cropped hair looked out of place in the Edwardian style swing and Dorcas said as much when she gently plopped down next to Darcy.

"Feels like summer hols again." Darcy's proclamation was muffled by Dorcas's embrace. "We were so young when we were here last. I didn't even have breasts then."

Dorcas felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, but kept from an all out bloom by loneliness. Everything these days was tinged with melancholia. Darcy had this knowing look on her face and Dorcas steeled herself against the scrutiny.

Instead, Darcy twisted around in her seat and jabbed a finger in the backrest of the swing.

"You remember this?"

Dorcas looked at what her sister was pointing at. Covered by the gleaming white top coat of the swing were what looked like scratch marks. She remembered of course. She traced her hand over the words that she knew would be there.

**Darcy and Cassie, Witch Detective Agency!**

The Auror Department had consulted their parents that Christmas regarding sentient being legislature and they had looked cool and unflappable. And from that time onwards until that summer before Hogwarts, all she and Darcy could play was Aurors and Dark Wizards; Detectives and Criminals.

They had brought the excitement all the way to this muggle vacation spot, where she had stolen her mom's wand and tried to carve their banner on this swing, which served as their make-believe office. She had wanted so badly to learn how to do magic with a wand, wanted to prove that she can do it without training, that she was exceptional, talented enough to become an Auror.

In the end, her mother had caught her, and all she got out of the wand was D-A-R-C.

"I've always wondered how you were able to steal mum's wand." Darcy's smile was all teeth. "She was so mad at you."

"For all the right reasons. Muggle town, uncontrolled magic." Dorcas traced the letters affectionately. "What did you use to finish this?"

"You remember Georgie, the gardener's boy?"

Dorcas raised an eyebrow at Darcy's intro.

Darcy raised an eyebrow of her own. "Don't look at me like that. Anyway, he was digging around, I borrowed his spade nicely." Darcy paused at Dorcas' amused look. "Hey Cas, I _do_ mean an actual spade."

"I'm sure," Dorcas commented dryly. "Like you said, you didn't have breasts then."

Darcy laughed loudly.

"Well I'm glad I used Cassie. I'm glad I gave you that nickname. I really liked that, you know, when our names rhymed."

Darcy nudged Dorcas's foot with her own but her sister was staring far off into the distance.

"You don't look so good. You're too quiet." Darcy crinkled her nose. "What is it?"

Dorcas turned towards Darcy, as if deliberating the statement.

"There's intelligence," Dorcas began, "regarding an attack in Muggle London."

Darcy jerked. "Bloody…. Do you know where?"

"I can't tell you that, Darcy. I shouldn't even have told you about the attack in London." Dorcas gave her an apologetic look.

"Why the hell n-" Darcy sighed- "Fine. It's your job. It'll put me in danger, yada yada. I get it. At least does the Minister know?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, _our_ Minister."

Dorcas threw her a wry look. "Yeah."

Darcy nodded her approval and they lapsed again into silence, one sister imagining the horrors her old world will inflict on her new one, the other sister thinking about how she was going to breach her next revelation.

When eternity stretched uncomfortably enough, Dorcas marched on. "Dars, there's another thing. I'm leaving the country." She raised her hand as a means to stay the comment that was evidently on her sister's lips. "It's for a mission and I'm not sure I'll receive news from here."

"Another stupid mission!" Darcy jumped up from the swing and started pacing. "For once I wish you'd choose your safety over missions!"

"Dars…"

"I know! I know! I understand. Doesn't mean I agree." Darcy slanted a suspicious look. "But why tell me this now?"

Dorcas took a deep breath. "I was hoping you'd agree to a Fidelius Charm."

"Cass, I can't hide from my life! I'm in Uni." Darcy plopped down once again on the swing, causing it to creek and groan dangerously. "This meeting made me miss my classes as it is," she added glumly, "can't miss more or I'll flunk."

Dorcas's eyebrow went up. "You're _failing_ classes?"

"You're missing the point!" Darcy threw both hands up.

"Darcy," Dorcas began in a clipped tone. "I think you're the one missing the point. There's a war going on, people are getting hurt. And even if my job weren't so high risk, you already are in danger by virtue of you being a Meadowes and what you-" Dorcas choked. "I'm sorry."

"Go on, Cassie, finish that statement. By virtue of _me _being a Meadowes and a _Squib_!"

"Darcy, I'm sorry." Dorcas reached over, but Darcy had jumped up from the swing and started pacing once again.

"Why should you be sorry? I'm not! I'm a muggle. And I'm okay with that." Then Darcy sighed. "Cass, I've always lived in between. Never completely magic yet never completely muggle. And being in between means that I've always felt out of place. But being in Uni, for the first time, I feel like I belong. Like I finally made a choice."

Eyes shining, Darcy stopped in front of Dorcas and continued: "I don't mind living the rest of my life as a muggle. In fact it's wonderful. They have soap operas and radios and The Beatles which let me tell you is infinitely better than the Weird Sisters. But embracing this, belonging to the muggle world means that I can't run to big sis whenever there's a problem to ask for a magical solution."

"I, um," Dorcas paused and mulled over her words, "I don't expect you to ask me for magical solutions to problems. You've hardly done so in the past, anyway. But this is something else. This is war Darcy. You have to understand that I would do anything in my power, magical or not, to keep you safe. Even if that means you have to compromise on living your purely muggle life."

"But that's the thing, Cass. _I'm a squib, a muggle, _who just happens to have a magical sister. And you can't always be there, Cassie. So I can't keep on plodding through the rest of my life knowing that there might be a magical backdoor. It's like if I join the football team without fear because I know that if I get beat up I can take Skele Gro and be brand new the next day. It's a little bit like cheating. And doing a Fidelus feels like that."

"It's not cheating if it's your life," Dorcas protested.

"And that's Dorcas, older twin sister extraordinaire and not Dorcas cool, rational spook speaking." Darcy smiled. "You're not failing me if I get in trouble. And you can't always fight my battles."

There was a silence that descended upon them, broken only by the sound of the rustling leaves and distant neighborly chatter. It was all so ordinary; an all too commonplace an accompaniment to their conversation.

"I'm sorry you felt a bit out of place," Dorcas said starting with the least relevant of their issues. "I've always tried-"

"I know you have." Darcy interrupted. "But that's the nature of the beast so to speak. Besides, being with you was one of the few times when I felt like I truly belonged. You know, the other half of the Meadowes twins."

Darcy sat down again next to Dorcas and draped her arm around her. The silence was comfortable and a bit painful. Dorcas was thinking about the good bye at the end of this meeting and somehow Darcy seemed to sense that.

"Darcy, is there any way I can convince you to undergo the Fidelus?"

"Nopity nope nope."

"Okay."

Darcy threw her a suspicious look. "That's it? No arguments?"

"How can I argue with nopity nope nope?"

"Ha! I've always claimed that that was the perfect argument."

Again there was another stretch of silence and another regroup.

"Compromise with me, Dars. If you won't agree to the Fidelus, then at least agree to magical help if the threat is magical."

Darcy looked at her skeptically. "I'm listening."

With a flick of her wand, a manila envelope appeared in Dorcas's hands. "If something dangerous happens, I want you to open this. Inside are some money, muggle and wizarding. And instructions on how to get to a safehouse. There is also an address of a man I work with, He will protect you. At the very least he will bring you under Dumbledore's care."

Darcy turned the envelope over in her hand before dropping it in her bag. Then throwing her sister a sinister smile, she asked, "this guy, is he hot?"

Dorcas snorted. "We just had a serious conversation so naturally that's the first thing you ask me."

Darcy laughed. "Well, intensity is overrated, let me tell you."

And the two sisters shared a laugh over a comment that wasn't even all that funny. All for the sake of the shared laughter.

Years later, Darcy would always look back on that day and talk about its significance with the wisdom afforded by retrospection. Because, truly it was an average autumn day; nothing extraordinary stood out. But its value lies in the fact that it was the beginning of the end.

* * *

**AN: **This is more a chapter to move the story along than anything but we're near the end. Thanks to all the readers for their patience considering how irregularly I update making this the most annoying story to follow.


	32. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**The Lonely Choices of a Strange Season**

Moody to Harry in OotP:  
"... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally..."

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The dining room in Malfoy Manor echoed. It seemed to defy science to have a room with such large proportions and high ceilings to have sound bounce around instead of getting lost in the air. But it was built much like those cathedrals of old and like those cathedrals, Dorcas was certain that numerous people had prayed in Malfoy Manor, most likely for their lives.

She was directed to sit at one end of the table by a house elf and she waited for Lucius in the big room, feeling so very, very small.

"Miss Meadowes." Lucius greeted with very little warmth. "You wished to see me?"

"I came to inform you and get word to our Dark Lord of my transfer." Dorcas handed over some parchment containing news of her "reassignment" to France.

"I see." Lucius said while skimming the documents. When he looked up at her, his smile gained a sinister quality. "Your transfer could be put to good use."

888

Seeing Lucius days ago did not scare her as much as the Order meeting she was going to. If there was anything to fear, it would have to be Greyback making noise about her questionable loyalty, but without any tangible proof, she knew Lucius would just chalk it up to the ramblings of a madman.

Lucius never gave any indication that Greyback had talked to him about the Communicating Speculum incident. Although Lucius never showed signs of doubting her, Dorcas knew that didn't mean anything at all in their business.

All in all, that just meant that things were status quo in the madness that she called her life.

It's been weeks since she informed Sirius about the plans to attack 10 Downing Street. Since the date of the attack was never established, the Order decided to be vigilant every full moon. But with her leaving for Bulgaria, and her position among the Death Eaters possibly compromised, she knew why Dumbledore wanted her present for this meeting. They probably wanted her opinion if a pre-emptive strike was better than waiting in defense over this uncovered plans of an attack.

What was strange was, despite the apparent and not so apparent dangers in her life, she was more scared of seeing Sirius than any of the other constant threats she has been facing of late.

The prearranged portkey that Dumbledore prepared brought her to the town square of Godric's Hollow. The last time she was here, Sirius gave her the ten knut tour of the place and discussed the history and the significance of the Potter family to the town. Back then, the town was bustling with life. Now, much like the rest of Wizarding England, everybody stayed indoors.

Her only company on the winding path towards the Potter residence was a scruffy black dog which alternately bounded ahead of her or doubled back and walked behind her. Rationally, the dog was poor protection against a Death Eater attack and, if she were superstitious, an animal which looked uncannily like a Grimm should worry her. Instead the dog's presence made her feel safe.

Once they reached the Potter residence, Dorcas stooped down to pet the dog, but it ran out of her reach and disappeared around the back of the house.

James answered the door on her fifth knock.

"Dorcas," he greeted. He looked surprised but quickly recovered his composure and cast a few revealing spells on her. After they dispensed with the whole security check, he ushered her inside, reset the wards, then he followed that up with a handshake.

"I guess I expected you to have an escort." James added with a sheepish grin

"Escort?" Dorcas asked but James wasn't inclined to answer. Seemingly out of the blue, Remus appeared beside her and ushered her into the kitchen.

"Best place to hang out." Remus explained. "We're still waiting for people before the meeting starts. Tea?"

"Uh, sure," Dorcas said, still confused.

Peter seemed to be guarding the kitchen door they just passed through. A portion of the door was made of glass which gave them a view of the room they just came from. After surveying it for a moment, Peter cast a muting charm.

"Coast is clear. I'm guessing we have five minutes." Peter grinned. "Lucky thing he didn't pick her up in the town square."

Remus kept looking out a window, which gave them a view of the backyard behind the house. Even from where she was standing, Dorcas could make out the faint outline of a person smoking under a tree.

Dorcas threw Remus a suspicious look as he ushered her into a seat in the middle of the three Marauders. "Am I being interrogated?"

"What? Of course not!" James exclaimed, dragging his hand through his already messy hair.

"We just wanted to make you feel more comfortable," Remus said nonchalantly and placed a mug full of tea in front of her. "The walk up can get chilly."

"I thought Padf- I mean Sirius would keep you warm on the way up." The lecherous look Peter had on didn't bode well with Dorcas.

"I didn't see Sirius on the way here." she said, matching Remus's nonchalant tone. "Just me and a black mutt."

All three men burst out laughing.

"Big, mangy and ugly?" Peter asked when the laughter started dying down, which prompted another round.

"Sorry about that," Remus said, whose laughter mostly consisted of the silent shaking of his shoulders. "This impromptu meeting… Well, we appreciate a good turn and just wanted to say thank you."

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. "For?"

"For taking Padfoot- Sirius- to wherever it is you went." James flashed her a cheeky grin.

"They were pretty cozy when I found them," Peter added again in that sly tone. Dorcas was grateful for the cautioning look Remus threw him.

"You're right. We're questioning you, although it's not what you think." Remus placated. "We we're just wondering about what you and Sirius talked about when you took him to- _wherever_- it was you took him during the summer."

A million things ran through her mind. None of which she wanted to look at too closely. "Why? I mean, why are you curious?"

"Good blackmail information," Remus replied with a good helping of boys-will-be-boys kind of look. "Come on, Dorcas, you knew me. This is just us Marauders having our fun."

"No harm in telling us what you did. Unless..." Peter shot her a meaningful look. James swatted the back of his head.

"Ha ha, it wasn't like that." Dorcas replied, then hated herself for the defensive note in her voice. Remus frowned. "Peter gave us the impression-"

"-Divination. That's all. Tea leaves and palmistry."

"You can read tea leaves and palms?" Remus looked curious. "Weren't you related to Apollonia Meadowes."

"Yes," Dorcas smiled wanly, "and no, I can't actually do it. I can _pretend_ to read tea leaves. Sirius did the palmistry bit."

A huge grin appeared on James' face, the implications of which scared Dorcas. "Sirius read your palm, yeah?"

Peter snickered while Remus let out a few shots of breath in his silent, non-laughing way of laughing.

Dorcas gave the group a skeptical look. "Uh, yeah." She hated being on the wrong end of a joke and this was the second time this evening that they were laughing while she wasn't.

"Sirius held _your hand_ to read _your palm_. We tend to do stupid things you know..." James broke off, his smile turning soft while he gazed over her shoulder for a moment. When she followed his gaze, she saw that he was watching Lily though the glass half of the kitchen door.

Then returning to her he said, "Sirius never took Divination."

A strange warmth started in the pit of her stomach but before she could process the implications of James's comment and its visceral effect, a loud blast came from the direction of the hallway. Framed against the glass half of the kitchen door was Lily's face. The door glowed blue for a moment then swung open slowly.

Lily stood in the open doorway with her hands on her hips and a frightening expression on her face.

"I've known you boys long enough to know that keeping you in a locked room is never good news." Lily declared in a stern voice, although obviously in half jest. She turned to Dorcas with a warm smile on her face. "They do anything questionable?"

"No, they were surprisingly behaved." Dorcas returned the smile.

"Ha! They must have you brainwashed," Lily declared over James sputtering. "I'm Lily Evans by the way."

"Well, I meant surprisingly well behaved- _for them." _Dorcas shook the proffered hand. "Dorcas Meadowes."

"_OH_…." Lily's voice had a knowing quality but she did not elaborate. Dorcas pretended not to see the elbow nudging James was giving Lily.

Lily turned to James with a big grin. "You're right, she's certainly _does not_ fit the type. But I can see why…."

James had an identical grin on his face. "Exactly!"

"Ignore them," Remus advised Dorcas. "This is fairly common. They like having conversations with each other as if the rest of us aren't in the room."

"_Anyhow_, the reason why I came was because the meeting is going to start in five minutes." Then she turned to James. "Don't make me herd your little menagerie again. Speaking of which, where's Sirius?"

James tilted his head towards the back door. "I'll get him, luv."

888

The first thing an Incolumitas agent learned was that in the prevention of surprise attacks, it was always wise to keep ones back to the wall and face the rest of the room. Dorcas supposed that old habits died hard because despite being in a room full of allies, she planted her back against a corner that enabled her to view the entire room. Unsurprisingly, Benjy also claimed one of the corners for himself. The dining room table wasn't big enough for all of them, so while the more senior of the group occupied the seats, the rest perched against various pieces of furniture and waited for Dumbledore.

Dorcas knew she should be used to this by now being a well known Death Eater, but the stares and the whispers where disconcerting. The worst part came from the other end of the room where she could see Marlene and Caradoc talking in hushed tones. Every once in a while they would give her pointed stares.

This would be the first time she would see them, her old school friends, since their very public severing of ties and Dorcas felt a mixture of both trepidation and excitement.

Then Sirius and James entered and took their place next to the rest of the Marauders against the far wall. Her eyes darted quickly towards him and she saw that he was staring at her with an intense expression on his face. He looked angry and sad at the same time but he wouldn't break their stare. She felt her heart constrict and when the sensation grew stronger she dropped her eyes first.

"We are all here then," Dumbledore began as he swept into the room. He refused the chair that Daedalus Diggle offered, instead opting to stand at the head of the table. "This would be the first time that we are all together."

"Previously, I have met up with different members as what the mission called for, but today I need all of you here because later, Alastor will organize us regarding an attack. However, we shall get to that soon." He smiled at Moody.

"As we all know, we have been suspecting that Voldemort is preparing for an attack of massive proportions, and ever so slowly we have monitored the movements of his followers, his so-called Death Eaters, trying to get an inkling of what he has in mind."

Dumbledore's outstretched arms were a sort of thank you for all of their efforts and a few in the room nodded an unspoken thank you in return.

"Emmaline, who has been tracking the business transactions of known members had alerted us to massive shipments of wolfsbane by companies that are known to be owned by various Death Eaters."

Arabella shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "But I thought that Voldemort has werewolves working for him."

Dumbledore nodded at Arabella then gave Remus a somber look. "Yes, Dorcas has confirmed that Voldemort has Greyback working for him."

"Dorcas Meadowes," Dumbledore quickly spoke over the sudden quell of protests while giving Dorcas a reassuring glance, "some of you may know as Daria and Damian's daughter and most of you know as a member of the Death Eaters. She is however, a member of that group at my behest working as a spy for the Order. Any questions you may have regarding her loyalty we can discuss later however, know that I trust her with this job."

Dorcas tried to ignore the stares of the rest of the group and her only consolation was that this time, they weren't as hostile as before.

"Remus" Dumbledore continued, "was able to find out how many lycanthropes are now rallying under Greyback's banner of equal werewolf rights."

"One hundred and thirty two." Remus's reply was equally somber. Somebody in the room gasped at the number. "Most of them are merely working for equal rights however some do believe in extreme measures to acquire this."

"Extreme, Mr. Lupin?" McGonaggal asked.

"Conversion." Remus sighed. "Or even breeding humans as food."

Conversation broke out among the Order members; most were shocked at the extent of the werewolves's desires.

"Most of the laws regarding werewolves are crap." Sirius voice broke through the murmurs. "They were designed to restrict them rather than give them rights."

"Sirius is right," Dumbledore spoke again; this time the room fell silent. "Voldemort is promising them equal rights and even more than that, as Remus has reported. He is even promising them some of the more extreme requests."

"We all know that Voldemort will not grant those rights, if the past events are any proof. The whole magical society needs a change in perspective before we can move towards equity." Caradoc, for the first time that evening spoke up. Dorcas sneaked a glance at her old friend and couldn't fight the small smile that started. Caradoc was working as a librarian in the Central Magic Library and it was just like him to be passionate about history and its implications on national mindset.

"I agree," Dumbledore continued. "Dorcas has given us evidence that Voldemort is only using them as a means to an end. The shipments of wolfsbane are being used to create a potion that could control these lycanthropes when they transform. He plans to use them his army when he attacks."

"On that front, we have already managed to stop some of the shipments of wolfsbane," Emmaline's regal voice echoed through the room.

"And we've confiscated some of the shite," Fabian Prewett said.

"Unfortunately, Voldemort still has enough for a single attack, an attack that we believe will be happening on the next full moon." Dumbledore peered over his steepled fingers as the room again broke into conversation and comments. When the noise died down, Dumbledore unrolled a parchment then tapped it twice. Smoke lifted from the parchment and its words were projected in the middle of the room for everybody to see.

"This is a copy of a missive from Lucius Malfoy to Regulus Black containing instructions regarding attacks on Downing Street and other institutions of the Muggle Ministry. Moody and I have studied the plans and have devised a way to protect their Ministry officials."

"But what would they gain from attacking their Ministry?" Marlene looked surprised. "I mean I understand the hatred towards Muggles but why not attack our Ministry first."

"They are announcing themselves to the world." Edgar Bones's voice boomed. "They not only want to declare their superiority amongst the magical society but the entire British society in general. Voldemort wants to control the entire of England. Set up a structure that classifies human beings according to their blood and use what he thinks are the lowest of the low- muggles- as his workers, slaves if you may of the wizarding elite."

"Yes, I can see that," Caradoc exclaimed. "The power vacuum left by the loss of the Muggle Ministry will be filled by Voldemort and his cohorts. There are cases like this in history."

"So what will we do?" James was squinting through his glasses, staring intently at the words as if memorizing them.

"Like Albus said, we talked about it. We'll divide into groups assigned to different parts of the plan," Moody replied. "Fabian, Gideon, Kingsley, Lily, we have a lot of Aurors in our group that can do the fighting and training the other members in fighting, but we have to be ready for other things. You, Potter, I have a lot of work for you to do."

"There is also a matter of those documents you gave me." Elphias Doge's wheezy voice sounded through the room.

"Ah, yes, Renton Riley's papers." Dumbledore gave Dorcas a slight glance. "What have you found out, old friend?"

"That Riley has been transferring money to various Ministry officials' Gringotts accounts," Doge announced.

"I'll look into those." Shacklebolt moved towards Doge. "Maybe we'll find who in the Ministry is under Voldemort's payroll.

Dumbledore had a hand raised. "But before we get ahead of ourselves, there is also another thing that I want to announce. Two of our Order members here are also employed by the Department of Mysteries."

"Spies?" Gideon Prewett's question came out more like a statement.

"Yes," Dumbledore looked everyone in the eye. "I know that we hardly keep secrets within our number but for their safety, I cannot say who they are. Of course it is up to them if they wish to divulge this information." Then adding wryly, "which I hardly doubt they would."

Dorcas had to smile at this last part and noticed that Benjy had a similar amused expression on his face.

"What I can say," Dumbledore continued, "is that there has been a suspicion that the Death Eater's have a training camp in Bulgaria. Both of them have received a mission directive to search for this camp."

The Prewett twins stood to attention but it was Fabian who spoke. "This is big. The Aurors have information that Death Eater Recruitment has doubled in the last three months. If we can have details about this, information on where they recruit or train, maybe we can whittle down their number."

Sirius pointedly stared at Dorcas. He looked angry. "Walking straight into a Death Eater camp like that. We're sending our allies into something with little chance of success."

Dorcas held her tongue. She wanted to defend herself to speak up but she knew that Dumbledore was right. Nothing could force her to admit that she was one of the Department of Mysteries spies he was talking about.

"It still may be our only shot," Gideon said. He met the eyes of everyone in the room. "I don't know who among of you are involved but if this works, the help you would give our cause is tremendous. So thank you."

888

After Moody assigned groups, Dumbledore suggested that they should take a break and have something to eat. Some moved into the living room where there were seats. Some headed for the kitchen to help with the food. Others were so engrossed in their conversations that it seemed as if they hadn't heard Dumbledore.

Dorcas had already decided before this meeting that she would take the opportunity to talk to Sirius, at least clear the air between them before she left. After his comment about her mission, she wondered if that was wise after all.

She was tracking Sirius's movements from the house and noticed that he also seemed to be avoiding company and was slowly making his way for the back door. She was still debating with herself if she should follow when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

On instinct, she spun around so fast she knew she scared the person. She had to mentally remind herself that she was safe here and with good people.

It turned out to be Marlene and Caradoc who, as she suspected, were a bit taken aback by her reaction.

"Sorry." She gave them an apologetic look.

Marlene didn't look angry, which was a comfort to Dorcas. Mostly she seemed hurt but Dorcas took as a good sign the fact that they were the one who approached her.

"You must do that a lot," Marlene said.

"Say sorry?" Dorcas didn't hide her confusion.

"No, the turning thing." Marlene pointed her finger and drew a circle in the air. "But yeah, that too."

"Yeah," Dorcas gave a wan smile, "I do."

"You're reflexes were really sharpened by spy work. I've never seen you move so fast." Caradoc was a bit friendlier than Marlene and Dorcas supposed this was because she didn't argue with him in public when she first started her mission, she merely avoided him.

"More due to paranoia, I guess." Dorcas gave him a wry grin. "The Death Eaters are a bunch of backstabbing creeps. Figuratively and literally."

"You could have told us you know. We'll make it into this big secret of ours. We managed Hogwarts just fine without the Slytherins finding out that we were friends." Marlene still looked hurt.

"Marlene, Caradoc, I'm sorry. I know you think that I could have told you but I couldn't," Dorcas couldn't help but sigh. "Not really. Not that I don't trust you to keep a secret. It's just that I thought that the less people who knew, the safer it would be."

"We could have helped you," Marlene said petulantly.

"We wouldn't have minded," Caradoc added.

"I know you could have helped me. But Voldemort is an occulumens. If he suspected anything he would read my mind and see that we're just deceiving him." Dorcas stared at the floor. "The only way to make it look real was to make it real. And you can't imagine how sorry I am."

"It must have been hard for you," Caradoc said. And like the older brother role that he always assumed in their little group, he pulled her into a hug. It took all of Dorcas's self control not to break into tears then and there yet she was still a bit teary eyed when he pulled away. "You have nothing to say sorry for."

"Oh Cassie," Marlene bust out suddenly. "I just wish we could have been there for you. And how could we if we didn't know!"

Dorcas felt her guilt double. She recognized that their undemanding offer of forgiveness had more to do with their nature than a lack of culpability on her part. She didn't know how they did it. How they could look at her and say that she was forgiven, as if her small apology was enough to take away the hurt she caused both of them.

Sure they were the best of friends in Hogwarts, but house rivalries and petty arguments were really nothing compared to the gravity of what she subjected their friendship to. And they forgave her, quite easily. Dorcas knew, _she knew_, more than anything that it was a kind of grace.

This time it was Dorcas who gave the hug. She enveloped Marlene in her arms. "I'd rather have the two of you safe. You have a son and a husband to take care of."

"You know, Marlene has a point. You don't need to treat us with kid gloves. And you don't need to be alone when dealing with your problems."

They spent the rest of the time talking and reminiscing about their Hogwarts days until McGonagal announced that dinner was ready.

Caradoc nudged them in the side. "If you'd have told me that one day, McGonaggal would serve us dinner I'd have said you're crazy, but here we are now."

The two made their way towards the food but Dorcas excused herself. She still hasn't seen Sirius re-enter the house and with everybody preoccupied with dinner, this was probably the best time to have a private talk with him.

888

She found him in the backyard, smoking under the shadow of an apple tree. His brow furrowed as if deep in thought and troubled. Dorcas almost turned around but he already spotted her.

He nodded in her direction.

"Hey," she called out softly. "They're serving dinner."

"Why aren't you eating Dorcas?" It wasn't angry or annoyed. He stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and lit another.

She shrugged. "Not hungry. You?"

He shook his head then continued smoking, basically ignoring her.

She took a deep breath. "Sirius, I know you really must have hated working with me but-"

"Dorcas, I went out here to smoke in peace."

A hint couldn't get more blatant than that.

He stubbed his cigarette out on the apple tree next to him then turned his back to her.

"Fine." Dorcas was about to go back to the house when something stopped her. Mustering her courage, she faced him. "You know what! That's it. I'm tired of you doing this. First you were mad at me because you didn't trust me. I can understand that. Then you're mad at me because you think I'm playing with your brother's feelings. I can understand that also. But what you did in there…." Dorcas took a deep breath. "How dare you question my ability to do my job?"

He turned around slowly. His eyes were hidden in the shadows and what little Dorcas could see of them looked both troubled and angry.

"Is that what you think I did in there?" He scoffed. "You're making this about your pride. I've never questioned your capability for the job. I can't believe you think that's the reason why I'm angry."

"Then tell me why, Sirius!"

"Look, Dorcas, I don't want to have this talk."

"I'm leaving, Sirius. I'm leaving tomorrow." He kept his head down, as if to avoid looking at her. She tilted his head up hoping that he would meet her eyes. "I just want to know why."

Finally, he gazed into her eyes, and he looked so angry. But there was something else, too. And she realized it was fear.

"Walking into a Death Eater training camp." His entire body was tensed. He kept his fists clenched at his side. "The risks of failing are so enormous, it's not even brave, it's stupid."

"Well, stupid or not is a moot point. It needs to be done. Besides, I thought you would have approved." She returned bitingly. "Seems like something you would have done yourself."

It happened so fast, her mind reeled from the speed of it. He pushed her roughly against the apple tree next to him. She had just barely regained her breath when he touched his mouth to hers. Teeth clashed against teeth. The bark stabbed her scalp and bit against her back but he was warm against her, comforting, and when he ran his hands through her hair the pain in her head eased and when he pressed himself against her, the ache on her back was replaced with how he felt.

He pulled away but kept his mouth an inch away from hers; his breath warmed her lips still, like a continuation of the kiss. He tasted faintly of apples and smoke and something unexplainably him.

She wondered if it was possible to reveal secrets in a kiss and she feared that she had told him all of hers with how she had parted her lips willingly and shivered in his arms. She feared that he knew exactly what she felt for him. She feared that it was all one sided, that for him this was just a kiss, similar to the millions of other kisses he had dealt before to the millions of other women he had been with before.

There was a rich metallic taste in her mouth and she realized that it came from her lip. He wounded her. For somebody who was a notorious ladies man, he bit her lip. She focused on that. Or else her mind would wander back to the kiss. Because it was passionate, and exciting, and comforting and wonderful. Yet angry. So very angry.

Her tongue touched her lower lip to worry the wound. The small movement was enough for him to initiate the kiss again.

It was gentler the second time around. He brushed his lips carefully against her wounded lower one like a caress, soothing away the pain. His tongue darted out quickly, touching then retreating, as if reveling in a new taste. He kissed her slowly as if he wanted it to last forever. He explored her mouth, experimenting with her reactions until she was moaning softly in the back of her throat. He answered with an involuntary press of his hips against hers and a moan of his own. His hands traced a gentle path back and forth up and down her neck and his body pressed harder against hers, as if wanting to get as close as possible.

Then he pulled away abruptly, leaving Dorcas dazed. None of the kisses she experienced in the past were like this and since she was honest with herself, knew that it wasn't just Sirius's skill in kissing that made her feel this way.

She studied him as he recovered from the kiss. As his breathing evened out, she saw that his eyes were unbelievably round and he looked varying parts mortified, excited and a little bit lost.

She watched as the look of confusion vanished from his face to be replaced with the grim resolve. "Dorcas, that whole time when you lost the mirror all I could think about was what if something happened to you. You couldn't tell me. I wouldn't be able to save you." He cupped her face in his hands. "I thought about you all the time. I wondered if you were in a mission. I wondered if you were safe at home. I wondered if you were sleeping well at night. I even wondered about this."

Dorcas could feel her heart pounding. "This?"

He trailed his fingers gently across her lips. "What kissing you would be like." Then he shook his head, as if clearing his mind. "I didn't understand it. Not immediately. Not even when you got the mirror back. It was only after…. What you said about walking into a Death Eater camp. Yes, it's something I would do. But I wouldn't be so nonchalant about it."

Dorcas felt as if he slapped her. "Now you're saying I'm not taking this seriously?"

He tightened his arms around her before she could react physically. He kept her in his embrace until her muscles softened and the fight went out of her. He buried his face against her hair; she could feel his breath on her scalp. Then Dorcas realized that they were shaking, and she wondered whether it was her or him.

When she felt she could finally speak without being overly emotional, she asked, "what are we doing, Sirius?"

"We're talking," he mumbled against her hair.

"I thought you didn't want to have this talk."

"And I thought you wanted to. You're getting your way."

She kept her eyes closed because it was safe; where there were no expressions to be deciphered.

"Sirius, _this_ doesn't seem like talking."

"Then we're arguing."

She opened her eyes to look at him. "Doesn't seem like arguing either."

His eyes flicked downwards at her lips. "What does it feel like?" His voice was soft and low and devoid of humor.

She nervously licked the wound on her bottom lip. All of a sudden she felt a gentle press of lips against hers followed by a light touch of his tongue over the broken flesh.

When he pulled away, she whispered, "I don't know what this feels like." Her voice caught in her throat.

"I do," Sirius whispered. But he didn't clarify and she was afraid to ask. Instead, he asked, "did you talk to Darcy?"

She nodded. "Ten days ago._"_

He stepped away from her and with each step, he took a steadying breath. "Ten days ago," he murmured.

Dorcas studied his expression. She looked for hints about how he really felt towards her. Mostly, all she saw was hurt.

So she focused on the other questions they had left hanging in their conversation. "Sirius, why do you think I'm not treating this gravely?"

He snorted, and she realized that it was directed at himself. "Because I thought if you realized how dangerous it was, you wouldn't have left without fixing things between us, without saying good bye. Then I realized that you were taking it seriously and I was just being an assuming ass. Because you already said goodbye to the people _that meant something to you._ You said goodbye to Darcy." Then he hung his head. "I assumed that I was imp- I mean I thought that maybe-" he sighed then tried again. "And as for me, I find out about your mission through a meeting."

"I'm sorry I didn't…."

"Like I said, I'm an assuming ass." his voice cracked. "Call me a jerk, but with the other girls, I've never been on this end of these kinds of conversations before. Cas, I guess there are no secrets now and I was so afraid that you would go without me ever saying I lo-"

"Don't," she closed the distance between them. "Please don't. Promise me you won't. This is already so difficult…."

Sirius closed his eyes. Then when he opened them, he looked different, changed. "If I say I-" He stopped as if changing his mind. "If you didn't feel so alone in this world, would you still go?"

"Yes," she answered and wished it was otherwise. But it was the truth, even if it was something she did not want him to hear. "Not because I want to but because it's what I should do."

He nodded. "I had hoped but I guess I didn't expect anything less."

"This is good -"

The back door of the house swung open, carrying with it the sounds from inside.

"Sirius, Dorcas-" Peter stopped when he realized that he must have been interrupting something. "I'm sorry." His eyes darted nervously between the two of them.

Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. "What is it, Peter?"

Peter pointed to the house behind him. "Moody wants everybody inside. Wants to finalize the plans but I can tell him…."

"It's fine." Dorcas smiled wanly. "We really should be getting back anyway."

Peter went in ahead of them, probably, Dorcas thought, to give them privacy. But although they took their time walking back, the both of them were silent for which she was grateful. She didn't know if she had it in her to say anything else after all that transpired. However before they entered the house, Sirius touched her cheek gently.

"I don't like goodbyes." He was looking at her with an earnest expression on his face. "I've said them to so many important people in my life, usually for the last time."

In that moment he looked so pained and vulnerable that her heart broke a little.

Oh, she had a hundred things she wanted to say, a hundred truths she wanted to voice out, a hundred little things that they needed to clarify. But what could be said in the middle of this war that would make living it a little easier? What could she say that would be fair to him if she didn't make it back to England alive?

Dorcas remained silent. Instead, she turned her head towards the hand on her cheek and pressed her lips against his palm. Aside from Darcy, Dorcas realized that this was the first time in a long while that she had somebody definite to return to.

* * *

AN:

Regarding this chapter, I do have to apologize for it being heavy on exposition. It was so obvious that knot tying was taking place, but it needed to happen and my mind couldn't give me any ideas on how to do it more creatively. And of course there's that cliché with the tree, but it was so much fun to put in.

If any of you want to read something related to Lonely Choices, take a look at Old Ghosts which is a Sirius story, set between books 4 and 5, after the events of Lonely Choices and definitely references things in this story.

Anyway, thanks guys for reading. I started this in 2005 and yet seven years later a lot of you are still here. You guys just rock!


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